Take Me To Your Best Friend's House!
by dinochainsaw
Summary: PruCan. Francis barged into Matthew's life, becoming his new "father." He completely interrupted Matthew's peaceful pace of life. But Gilbert, Francis' best friend, is about to shake up Matthew's life even more.
1. Chapter 1

***A/N: Well, this is what happens when I read a PruCan fic and think "what does France think?" and then listen to "Tounge Tied" by Grouplove. :P I like to think of Francis like an uncle-ish-cousin-yet-father to Matthew. I'll settle on "step kid" for this story. Yeah. Anyways, thanks for reading and please review!**

***DISCLAIMER: I don't own Hetalia or the song "Tounge Tied" by Grouplove.**

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_"Okay, Matthew. This is your new father, Francis Bonnefoy. Of course, you'll refer to him as 'dad.'" My "mother", Michelle, introduced her new husband to me. He had wavy, blonde, shoulder length hair. He wore his button-up shirt unbuttoned, revealing a t-shirt with a picture of a rose in the middle. He looked to be around 24 , the same age as my mom._

_"Nice to meet you, sir." I shook his hand._

_"Matthew, talk to him like he's your father!" My mother scolded. 'But he's not my father.' I thought._

_"Er..Hello." It sounded more forced than I'd expected it to be. "Papa." I added._

_Francis smiled at me. "Hello Matthew! This is my son, Alfred." He motioned to the boy my age, 18, who just ran inside the house. He was wearing a jacket, despite the warm weather._

_"Yo! I'm Alfred, and I'm a hero!" He grinned and looked up towards Francis. "This is my dad! He's gonna be your dad from now on, too!"_

_Francis whispered something to Alfred. His smile faltered, but returned after he glanced towards me. Francis pat Alfred on the head and walked over to Michelle, hugging her. It felt odd to see another man hold my mother close. I only saw one man display his affection to my "mother", a man who I never wish to meet. After all, he simply "showed his love" for my "mom" and left._

_I hope he died; preferably a horrible, painful, slow death._

_"We'll be making dinner! Go talk to Alfred, Matthew. Show him your room!" My "mom" suggested as she walked away with Francis towards the kitchen._

* * *

***PRESENT DAY***

It's been a few months since Francis stepped into my life. Oh, if it wasn't obvious, Michelle isn't my real mother (hence the quotation marks around the word "mother"). She's actually my aunt. My parents simply vanished, so she took care of me after. It feels kind of weird calling a woman only 6 years my senior my "mom," but I'd rather call _her_ my mom than call my dissapearing-like-a-magician mother my mother.

Well, they didn't actually vanish. One day I just came home, and they weren't there. So I waited. Day after day; night after night. About a month later, I resigned to the fact they had indeed left to God-knows-where. Perhaps they got sick of raising an almost invisible kid. A kid that whenever they'd introduce me to someone, the other would always reply "Who? I don't see anyone there."

It feels even weirder calling this random frenchman who just happened to be Michelle's new husband I never knew about or met my father.

"Matthew! Did you eat lunch?" Francis called from downstairs.

"Yeah!" I replied back, my whisper-toned voice increasing in volume to make sure he heard me.

"Good! Now get in the car, we're going to my friend Gilbert's house!"

I closed the book I was reading and placed my stuffed animal, Kumajira (was that it's name? I'm not sure.), on the little chair I had sitting in the corner of the room. Kumakichi was a gift from Michelle when I first moved in with her two years ago. I walked down the stairs and out the door, noticing that Alfred had already called shotgun. Not that I _wanted_ to sit up front with a man who just barged into my world.

The entire ride, Alfred sang along to every song he knew on the radio. Apparently, Alfred knew _every_ song on the radio. It was quite irritating, every turn Francis made Alfred was either singing about being Titanium or something about how he wished his lips could build a castle some nights*. The ride might've been more enjoyable if Alfred was a good singer.

Finally, we arrived at this "Gilbert"'s house. Francis knocked on the door and yelled things in German (I didn't even know he spoke German!) until Gilbert finally opened the door. He had deep, red ruby eyes and his hair was the whitest white I've ever seen! He was dressed in a black t-shirt, blue jeans, and a red, plaid scarf decorated his neck.

"Guten tag, Francis!" He had a German accent, which I'd already assumed he had since Francis had to shout in German to get him to open the door.

"Hey, Gil. This is my new son, Matthew."

"Ah." He gazed at me for a minute before continuing. "Adopted another one?"

"No, this one is Michelle's."

"Ah. Nice to meet you, Matthew!" He reached out and shook my hand. He used a whispery tone as he continued. "Having _this guy_ as your new dad must suck a-" He was cut off by Francis slapping his hand onto his face. "No cursing around these two, _sot._" This was the first time I heard Francis speak his native language, French. I hope Michelle told him I can speak French as well. I'd like to get to practice more of my French, since I'd stopped speaking it frequently since we moved to America.

Francis and Gilbert began to converse once again, this time fully in French. Apparently, Francis had no idea I could understand what he was saying. Such vulgar, disturbing things about Michelle were pouring out of his mouth. For the first time in my life, I wished I was deaf.

"Euh...je peux vous comprende." I announced. Francis' eyes widened, filled with shock and embarrassment. Gilbert simply laughed and motioned for me to follow him to the kitchen.

"Sorry about that! Although, I kinda figured you spoke French. You know, because your Canadian." Never had anyone realized I was Canadian. Then again, no one ever realized I was there. "But I thought it'd be funny to see Francis get all embarrased once he figured out you could understand him. Kesesesese~" He had such an unusual laugh. Not odd or strange, but simply unusual. It was unique; and I liked it.

He opened his pantry and waved a hand in front of it. "This is my pantry. What do you want to eat?" My eyebrows rose, shocked that he knew I was hungry. I didn't want to be a burden on Francis, since Michelle had gone to work, to make me lunch. "I heard your stomach growl while me and Francis were talking about...anyways!"

I lightly chuckled at the way a blush rose to his face at the mere mention of what he and Francis had spoken about to each other. It seemed out of the ordinary a loud, boisterous man like him would attain such an embarrased look. I almost picked out a pancake mix he had, but remembered that not only was it lunch and not breakfast (despite the fact I ate pancakes any time of day), I was in an older stranger's (well, he was a "stranger" to me) house and that I needed to show respect. I'd be more of a burden on him eating his food than having Francis make my lunch.

"I'm really not hungry." I answered.

"You sure?" He raised an eyebrow.

I nodded my head and followed him back to the living room. Francis' blush was slightly fading away, but was still noticeable to all of us. Alfred was still sitting on Gilbert's couch, texting someone on his phone. Gilbert and Francis resumed their conversation, this time in German. I can only hope it wasn't about Michelle.

At some point in the conversation, Francis said something very lowly and angrily. Gilbert's eye contact with him moved to a random point on the wall. He seemed a bit hurt and offended at what Francis had said. However, he continued to speak, his voice increasing in volume as he spoke. Francis began to yell something at him that made Gilbert's voice quiet down and soften.

"I won't..." He glanced at me, and switched back into German for the rest of his sentence. "I understand" was the last fragment I heard in his low, saddened tone of voice. The two noticed my gazing at them and began to speak in English.

"And I said 'What do you and Wal-Mart have in common?' And Antonio said 'what?' And then _I_ said, 'Kid's pants half off!**" Gilbert laughed his "kesesese~" laugh once again.

"Ohonhonhon! I bet he countered with something about Lovino, huh?"

"Yeah! I can't believe they ran away together!***"

The two spent the next couple minutes finishing up their conversation, until Francis decided it was time to leave. Francis and Alfred waved their goodbyes and headed out the door; I attempted to do the same. However, Gilbert caught my shoulder just before I took a step outside.

"See you next time, Ja?" He winked and shoved a small, folded strip of paper in my hands. I just nodded at him and returned to the car. As soon as I stepped in the car, I was greeted by the sound of Alfred singing something about how people say life is a battlefield, and how he responds "Bring it on."**** I tried to block out his horrible singing and unfolded the paper Gilbert gave me.

_123-456-7890 _

_Call me! _

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***A/N: Okay, for those of you who have no idea why I have asterisks next to some sentences, here you go: *Alfred is singing the songs "Titanium" by David Guetta and Sia and "Some Nights" by Fun. **This is a joke I found on a Hetalia fan-made comic. ***This is referring to my other fic, A Not So Lonely Road. This is taking place 8 years after where A.N.S.L.R (Antonio & Lovino are 15 & 16 in A.N.S.L.R) is as of right now. ****Alfred is singing the song "Numb" by Usher. By the way, these are all songs I hear on the radio. As always, thanks for reading and please review! I'll (probably) update this once every Friday, like A.N.S.L.R.**


	2. Chapter 2

***A/N: Hi, it's dinochainsaw (of course) with chapter 2 of Take Me To Your Best Friend's House! Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and follows! You are all so freaking awesome! As always, thanks for reading and please review! (And follow me on tumblr at dinochainsaw. tumblr. com take out the spaces)**

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"That was totally the best burger ever!" Alfred yelled passionately as he threw away his burger's wrapper.

"That's what you say everytime you eat a burger, Alfred." Francis pointed out, laughing at his son's brightness.

Alfred simply laughed at his comment and jumped on the living room couch. He reached desperately for the T.V remote, not bothering to get up and properly grab it. Alfred squirmed around, making exaggerated noises to make sure we were aware of his struggle to simply grab the remote. Eventually he gave up and collapsed against one of the couch's pillows.

"Mattie! Can you get me the remote?"

"Alfred, it's right there!" Francis scolded.

"But _Dad_! It's so far away!"

"Are you really acting like this?" Francis' voice attained a fatherly-lecturing tone. "By the time I count to three, that remote better be in your hand or I'm going to-"

"Fine!" Alfred stood up and finally took the remote into his own hands. He clicked the 'on' button and began to channel surf. The T.V displayed a wide variation of shows, but Alfred stopped as soon as he saw the logo for the "Discovery Channel" in the corner of the T.V.

"You and me, baby, aint nothing but mammals~" He began to sing/screech in the most horrible tone of voice that made my ears want to bleed.

"I'm sorry about _him_." Francis apologized to me.

"It's okay, sir- I mean Papa." I corrected myself.

I finished up my own burger, threw away the wrapper (quietly, unlike Alfred), and washed my hands. I wouldn't want that greasy food to stain Kumajiki! I tried to walk around the couch, not wanting to interrupt Alfred's eye contact with the T.V, which was currently showing a documentary on dolphins. Alfred watched in pure awe as each gray dolphin leaped into the air and splashed back into the water.

Once I finally made it into my room, I unfolded the small paper for what seemed like the 100th time. This man, this _24 _year old man, was hitting on me. _Me._ I couldn't believe it. Then again, it was a bit obvious with all the winks he'd given me. I briefly weighed out the pros and cons of calling him.

First off, I'll admit Gilbert was a very handsome man. He had a nice laugh, too. I definitely wanted to hear it again. He actually saw me and gave all his attention to me at some point, and he never once confused me as Alfred (Sure, it was our first meeting, but when Francis introduced me to Mr. Lupei, called me Alfred at least two times!).

But on the downside, Gilbert was the same age as Michelle and Francis! He was 6 years older than me! I'm sure Michelle wouldn't condone me having a relationship with him, and Francis _really_ wouldn't allow it. He was his best friend, after all!

Well, there were 5 positive and 2 negative reasons to call/not call him.

"I guess I can just have a little conversation with him..." I whispered to myself. I took a seat on my bed and reached for my cellphone sitting on my bedside table. I dialed his number quickly, since his number only required me to push all the number buttons in order.

The phone rang only _twice_ before he answered.

"Hey, birdie! Didn't expect you to call! Kesesese~" I was greeted with the privilege of hearing his beautiful laugh.

"Hello, Mr. Gilbert." I almost referred to him with a simple "Gilbert," but remembered I was speaking to an older man. Despite the fact he was hitting on me, I still felt the need to show him respect.

"Call me Gilbert." He paused. "Or Gil. My friends call me Gil. Then again, your not my friend." His voice changed slightly in pitch, lowering as he continued on. "I want you to be _more_ than a friend, Ja?"

"Er..." I couldn't think of a proper reply.

"Kesesesese~ I'm just messing with you, birdie!" I could practically _hear_ that wide grin on his face."Not really."

"Sir-I mean, Gilbert. Not to be rude, but don't you feel a bit odd liking someone _six years_ your junior?"

"Nope." He answered confidently.

"But there are other people for you to...like, aren't there? People who are older than me?"

"You're right. There _are _other people more suitable for people my age to like. But then there are people for me to love, and no one should be able to tell me-or you-what age your lover should be. Besides, six years isn't _that _much of a difference."

"Well, we just met each other!" I didn't realize I was trying to think of reasons that Gilbert shouldn't date me.

"Ever heard of love at first sight?"

"I don't know anything about you, and you know nothing about me! How can you already say you're in love?"

"Why don't we meet up again, since you want to know so much about me. Are you free on Friday?"

"Uh.." A part of me really _did_ want to see Gilbert again. "I think so."

"Great! I'll tell Francis to come over that night and bring you along!"

Before I could answer, Gilbert hung up. I sighed and slumped against the wall. I wasn't quite sure what I was fighting for in that conversation, or if I was even fighting at all. At one point, I was against the idea of Gilbert liking me (and I'm not quite sure why). Then, I completely forgot about being opposed to his love and gave in to the suggestion of going on a date.

Although, I'm pretty sure it's not going to be much of a date with Francis there.

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***A/N: Bah. I don't like the ending of this chapter. Sorry about that! As always, thanks for reading and please review (+follow me on tumblr at dinochainsaw. tumblr. com take out the spaces)!**


	3. Chapter 3

***A/N: Hello my lovely followers! I'm back with chapter 3 of Take Me To Your Best Friend's House! I'm going to start personally replying to your reviews, so if you reviewed at all, you already got my reply! Also, ignore the reference to A Not So Lonely Road in chapter 1. As always, thanks for reading and please review(+follow me on tumblr at dinochainsaw. tumblr. com take out the spaces)!**

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The sound of my alarm clock beeping awakened me. I grunted in annoyance and rapidly hit my bedside table in an attempt to stop the unawesome beeping of the clock. After a few seconds, I slowly opened my eyes and properly turned off my clock. Sighing, I slid out of bed and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

Lazily opening my fridge, I reached in and grabbed the first thing my hand got a hold of. Luckily, it was beer. I took a swig from the brown bottle, entering a relaxed state at the feel of the cold liquid running down my throat. A smile found it's way onto my face as I swallowed the last drop of beer from the bottle. I set it down on the counter and took the box of pancake mix out of the pantry.

"Birdie wanted to eat this, right?" I asked myself. Shrugging, I sloppily opened the box.

Using scissors that somehow ended up in the freezer, I cut open the plastic bag of powder. I quickly read through the instructions and got out the utensils,crappy alternatives that were the closest thing to what the recipe called for, that I needed. A fork instead of a whisk, a plastic cup in place of a measuring cup, a small bowl, and a spatula (that Ludwig bought me). I mixed together the pancake mix, milk, and water to create just enough batter for about two pancakes. Pouring the mix evenly into two different pans, I turned the stove on. As I waited for the pancakes to show signs of being cooked, I listened to the radio app on my phone.

"And now, we have a hit song that went viral on Youtube! By PSY, this is Gangnam Style!"

Immediately, the song began to play. I recognized it from somewhere; I'm sure it was the song Yong Soo, the usual bar tender, listened to as he poured customers glasses of alcohol.

"Oppa Gangnam Style!" I sang along to the familliar, upbeat tune as I danced the "horse dance." Just after the chorus, I noticed the ends of the pancakes were beginning to become firm as bubbles appeared all over the batter.

I flipped the pancake with the spatula and continued to listen to the Korean song. After another minute, the pancakes were ready to be eaten. I put them onto a red plate and looked into my pantry for some syrup. I noticed a plastic bottle of maple syrup with a Canadian flag on the label sitting in the back of one of the shelves.

"Canadian flag? Reminds me of Matthew." I said to myself as I poured a bit of the syrup onto the two fluffy pancakes stacked on top of each other.

Using a butterknife and a new fork, I cut out a small bite of the pancakes. Slowly putting it into my mouth, I tasted the flavor of maple syrup for the first time.

It was awesome.

* * *

"Then, I ate it!" I explained to Francis my first experience eating maple syrup over the phone. "It was awesome!"

"I'm sure it was. Now, why did you _really_ call me? Because I know you didn't just wake me up from my beauty sleep just to tell me about some damn pancakes!"

I heard a faint "stop yelling" in the background that probably came from Michelle.

"Sorry!" Francis apologized. "But seriously, why did you call me?"

"Oh yeah!" I just remembered the real reason I called Francis. "How about you and Matthew come over for dinner Friday night?" I asked. "The poor kid must starve himself!" I added.

"I guess Matthew _could_ put on some pounds." There was a tone of hesitation in his voice. "I guess we can come over for dinner. Why don't I bring Alfred, too? So Matthew doesn't get lonely."

"No!" I answered quickly. "Alfred will...eat all the food! We'll eat burgers." I explained my protest.

"Gilbert. Do you remember the conversation we had yesterday?" Francis' tone of voice changed into a darker one. "You will not try to do anything to Matthew. He is my son, technically my step son, but still my son. So, I won't tolerate you trying to 'get with' him."

He was referring to conversation we had in German the other day. I couldn't forget it, after all, it was the first time Francis ever spoke to me seriously. Since we'd been friends since elementary school, he recognized the look on my face when I liked someone. I could tell by the hesitation, fear, and anger in his voice that he _really_ wanted me to stay away from Matthew. But my Grandfather Jeremy had always told me:

_"Gilbert, if you love really someone, you'll do anything to be with them."_

I never really "loved" someone; the longest relationship I ever had lasted 2 weeks. But when I first saw Matthew standing next to Francis, something took over me. I just wanted to wrap my arms around his small and frail body and tell him how beautiful he looked. I never had the urge to do that, not even when I was in a relationship.

_That's _how I knew I loved him.

"Gilbert? Are you still there?" Francis' voice sent me hurdling back to Earth.

"Yeah, I'm here." I paused. "And I understand how you feel about me 'getting with' Matthew."

"Good. As long as you don't do anything, I guess I'll bring him over."

"Awesome. See you on Friday."

"Oui."

I wasn't really lying to Francis. I _did_ understand why he felt the need to protect Matthew from me. After all, I was always a "one night stand" kind of guy.

But with Matthew, I'd stay by his side forever.

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***A/N: And there you go, chapter 3 of Take Me To Your Best Friend's House! And of course, my overly lovely readers, thanks for reading and please review (+follow me on tumblr at dinochainsaw. tumblr. com take out the spaces)!**


	4. Chapter 4

***A/N: Hello my lovely chainsaws(my new name for you guys)! It's dinochainsaw with chapter 4 of Take Me To Your Best Friend's House! I'm going to be putting up a Halloween-themed Hetalia fic on Halloween, so make sure you read it! As always, thanks for reading and please review (+follow me on tumblr at dinochainsaw. tumblr. com take out the spaces)!**

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The sound of a phone being slammed back into it's charger rang throughout the whole house. I could hear Michelle asking Francis why he interrupted the peace of the house, to which he simply replied with "I'm a bit upset." Michelle didn't press further and, I assumed, walked out of the living room. With great enthusiasm in his voice, Alfred reacted to Francis' behavior with: "Dad! You were like the Hulk just now! Francis angry!" He yelled in a "Hulk" voice, and made a sound of his fist slamming against the table in order to imitate the sound of Francis hanging up the phone.

Ignoring Alfred's reaction, he called for me. "Matthew! Come here!"

A bit scared, yet curious as to why Francis was so angry, I came downstairs immediately.

"Guess who just called?"

"Uh...I don't know." I shrugged.

"Gilbert. Fu-Freaking Gilbert!" The sight of Francis attempting to censor his angry behavior was hilarious! I tried not to burst out laughing at him. "He called and...you're coming with me to eat dinner with him on Friday."

"Oh." So this was what Francis was so upset about? If I hadn't already been aware that Gilbert was going to invite me to dinner, I would've been just as surprised as Francis. Not annoyed, but surprised.

"So, do you want to go? You don't have to if you don't want to." Francis' face and tone of voice practically screamed "Don't say yes! I'm begging you!"

"Sure, I'll go." I smiled at Francis as I made my way back to my room. For some reason, I felt highly pleased with the slightly more upset face Francis attained due to my answer. Perhaps it was the knowledge that I was doing something my "parent" didn't approve of. Yes, it must've been the pleasing "rebellious" feeling teenagers my age always feel when they do something wrong on purpose.

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_*THAT FRIDAY NIGHT*_

I could feel my palms begin to sweat, as I was extremely nervous. I'd rehearsed my plan to get Francis out of the house so Matthew and I could be alone practically a thousand times. However, the chance of something going wrong seemed to rise every minute. Even the ridiculous idea of Francis having thought of the same exact scenario and having created a plan to counter it seemed highly probable. It seems the most ridiculous things seem likely when you're nervous.

I paced up and down the hallway that connected the living room with the kitchen. I examined the pie chart I made, out of the fear that something would go wrong, that displayed the different situations that could happen and how likely each one was. They were all silly scenarios, really. I mean, would Francis just _happen_ to have cleets on to kick me with when I tried to speak to Matthew?

Or would he have a gun to shoot me with when I tried to get him out of the house?

*DING DONG*

The sound of the doorbell ringing interrupted my nervous laughter caused by the idiotic situations I'd shown on the chart. Taking a deep breath, I casually walked over to the front door.

"You're awesome. You got this. You won't mess up." I whispered to myself. Placing a grin on my face, I opened the door.

"Francis! Matthew! You're here!"

Francis nodded and followed me into the kitchen.

"So, we'll be eating burgers, like I said." I pointed to the burgers West had been kind enough to make for that night. "You like burgers, don't you, kid?"

The word "kid" seemed to throw Matthew's soft smile off the window. Honestly, I didn't want to add the "kid" in. It was supposed to be a sign to Francis that I don't like his son in _that_ way.

Instead of answering me verbally, Matthew simply nodded.

"Good. What do you guys want to drink?" I opened my refrigerator to show them their options. "Oh, wait. I have a wine just for you, Francis!" I reached into the back and handed him the bottle.

"I'll just drink Sprite." Nodding, I handed Matthew a can of Sprite. I popped open a bottle of beer and took a seat at the table.

"So...how's work been?" Not really caring for Francis' response, I watched to see how much wine he was drinking each time he took a sip. Luckily, he was drinking alot at a fast pace. He must've been parched.

"Oh, you know." Francis took a long swig from his wine glass. "The usual."

"You've been working late or what?" I took a small bite from my burger.

"Of course not! You know I need my beauty sleep!" Francis took a strand of his wavy hair in between his index and thumb finger. "And this? I _always_ eat the crusts of my toast."

"I see." I watched as Francis finished off his glass and poured himself another glass-full. As time passed by and the useless conversation continued, a light red began to dust his cheeks. The red tint became darker and darker, his words slurring more and more frequently. Finally, he was drunk. Trying not to grin, I went on to step 2 of my plan: Get Francis out of the house.

"Well, I'm-" I stood up, spilling the beer in my hand on Francis' shirt on purpose. "Oh no!"

"What've you done to my shirt, Gil?" Francis' words came out slurred, just to prove how drunk he was. "Now I need to change."

"You remember where my shirts are, right? In my closet." I guided Francis into my room. As soon as he stepped (more like stumbled) in, I closed and locked the door. Knowing Francis was too drunk to even know where the hell he was, I made my way back into the kitchen.

"Step 2 complete!" I sat back down in my seat and faced Matthew. "Now step 3: Have your date with birdie."

A light pink dusted Matthew's cheeks. "I see. But isn't he going to realize he's locked in?"

"Last time, Antonio and I locked him in the garage, don't ask why, and didn't even attempt to get out." I laughed. "But in advance, I apologize for the trouble you're going to have in the morning. You have a driver's license, yes?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I got it a few weeks ago."

"Good. I don't want him to drive you home. In fact," I pulled my cellphone out of my pocket. "Why don't you call Michelle and tell her you can't make it home? You know, because Francis is drunk. And you don't know your way from here, because this is only the second time you've been to my house." I thought of explanations he could tell Michelle.

"A-are you asking me to stay the night?" Matthew stuttered out.

"If you want to. Though I prefer you do."

He swallowed. "As long as you don't, you know, try anything."

I raised my right hand up and placed my left hand on the table. "I swear I won't."

"Okay. Then I guess I'll stay." He grabbed my phone and dialed his "mom." After a short conversation that involved Michelle saying: "Francis is so dead when he gets back!", Matthew hung up the phone. We finished up our burgers and played "Hockey", the Canadian card game, that is. After about an hour of different Canadian card games, we decided to go to sleep.

"Where's your guest room?" Matthew asked.

"Down that hallway and it's the only door on your right." I pointed.

Matthew began to walk in the direction of the room just before I caught his shoulder. "Did you have a good time?"

He took a moment to answer, a prominent smile finding it's way onto his face when he did. "Yup. Goodnight, Gil."

With an equally bright smile, I wished him a goodnight as well.

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***A/N: And there you go, my lovely chainsaws! Chapter 4 of Take Me To Your Best Friend's House! As always, thanks for reading and please review(+follow me on tumblr at dinochainsaw. tumblr. com take out the spaces)!**


	5. Chapter 5

***A/N: What's up my lovely chainsaws? How was your Halloween? Mine was good. Watching Halloween movies and eating all the candy I can find in my pantry while wearing a Batman jacket that was meant to be something like a costume is awesome! Speaking of Halloween, I put up a Halloween fic this past Wednesday. As always, thanks for reading and please review!**

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"Alfred!"

"Yes, Mom?"

"Bring Matthew and your dumbass father home. They're at Gilbert's house."

"Okay."

* * *

Gilbert and I chatted about random topics as we ate our pancakes for breakfast. Most of the said topics had something to do with "the awesome Prussia", which apparently was Gilbert's favorite thing to learn about when he was in school. He even told me a story about a project he had to do in 6th grade.

"When I was in my first year of middle school,I had to do a project about a country of my choice. My father used to tell me stories of battles and bloodshed when I was a kid instead of stories that were more appropriate for my age, so I decided to do my project on Prussia. Big mistake." The way Gilbert told his story reminded me of when I first met my grandfather, my biological mother's father, that is. He had this same glint in his eyes as he reminsced about his tale.

"The teacher yelled at me for not picking a real country! That bitch!" He glanced at me, covering his mouth as soon as he uttered that profanity. "I'm sorry, Matthew."

"It's fine. My classmates curse alot. My friends do, too." I replied. "That is, when they notice me." I coyly added.

"Oh really? How can people not notice you? You're beautiful!" Gilbert reached over and ran a hand through my hair. "Now back to the story. That dumbass teacher told me that Prussia isn't a real country! She gave me a 0 and began to lecture the class on why Prussia dissolved. After that, I kept going to counselor's office, requesting to change my schedule. But they wouldn't let me change because-"

He rambled on about how much he hated school. It was fascinating, really. Every once in a while, he'd laugh. Whether it was out of pity for his teacher's stupidity or because he was mentally reliving a time when he and my Francis did something "bad," it was still the same wonderful and unique laugh I loved to hear. His German accent never failed to lose my attention, causing me to be on the edge of every word he said in his story.

Eventually, we finished our pancakes. He threw his dish in the sink, not bothering to wash it or at least let the faucet pour water on it. Fazed by his lazy actions, I rushed over to the sink and washed our plates as he continued to talk about his middle school. I'd gotten used to hearing Alfred talk about the Avengers or Superman(and sometimes even Batman) while I washed our dishes. However, that always seemed like such an inconvinience. This time, I was enjoying hearing someone talk while I did what was supposed to be _their_ chore.

*DING DONG*

The doorbell rang just as I wiped my wet hands off with a napkin. Gilbert walked over to the front door and answered it.

"Hey Gil! I'm here to get Matthew and my Dad. Did he get drunk _again_?"

"Sure did. I'll go get him."

I exited the kitchen and strolled over to the front door. Alfred was leaning against the doorway, rolling his eyes in annoyance. He was mumbling words to himself, although I could only understand "that drunkard Francis" and "he's so stupid for not inviting me."

"Why? Not to be rude, but why did you want to come?" Abruptly after I asked that question, Gilbert returned carrying a passed out Francis over his shoulder.

"I'll tell you in the car."

Alfred waved goodbye to Gilbert, threw Francis into the backseat, and proceeded to drive back home. I tried to memorize the roads and turns, knowing that if I ever wanted to come back to Gilbert's house, I'd have to know my way there and back.

"I like him." Alfred's voice shook me out of my state of studying the route we were taking.

"Pardon me?"

"I like him. Gilbert." Alfred's voice was barely above a whisper when he repeated those words.

"You mean, you like him or...do you _like_ him?" I made sure to put emphasis on the second "like."

"I mean I _like_ him." He replied, firmer than before.

"Oh. I see." I murmered, trying at all costs to look away from Alfred.

* * *

I sighed as I layed on my living room couch. I wanted to tell Birdie more of the experiences I had in middle school. Contrary to popular belief, I did _not _have my first kiss in middle school. That was the first thing I ever lied about to Antonio and Francis. I mean, I haven't really lied to Francis that many times. Besides promising not to try anything on Matthew and saying I've had my first kiss, I don't think I've ever lied to Francis.

Obviously, we were the best of friends. Antonio, Francis, and I were always around each other. "The three musketeers." All the teachers referred to us as the three musketeers until middle school. Because we were probably the most perverted students in the school, we were given a new title.

"The Bad Touch Trio."

I'm still quite fond of the name. Although, in high school, there was a alternative to that name. "The Bad Friends Trio." Either one expressed how bad we were, although I still enjoy the first version of the name more than the second one. It had more of a _je ne sais quoi_ as Francis used to say. However, I think it's simply the word 'touch' that puts him in favor of it. We all know how hot and bothered he gets when anything having to do with "bad touching' gets involved.

I grabbed my cellphone(that was laying on the small table in the center of the room) and unlocked it to check the time. I groaned in frustration. It was barely 2 o'clock! I still had hours upon hours before I'd fall asleep! And with Birdie around, I had nothing to do.

Birdie.

Matthew.

For the remaining hours of the day, I let the radio app on my phone play as I thought of all the quirks and idiosyncrasies Matthew had. He had beautiful hair and eyes, that's for sure. Overall, his physical appearance was wonderful. But what's on the inside, that's what really mattered(again, this is contrary to popular belief)! His shyness and inferiority to his step-brother. Even if he doesn't say it, I can see it in his eyes. He feels so overshadowed by his brother. I know that feeling. Ludwig was always our family's favorite. All my relatives thought of me as the black sheep of the family.

"It's so fun being alone!" I used to say. "I'm used to it!" But just saying I'm used to it doesn't mean it didn't still hurt. I knew how it felt to be practically invisible. I didn't want Matthew to ever feel the same way.

I wanted him to open up only to me. I wanted him to come out of his shell. I wanted to him to love me, and me alone.

* * *

***A/N: What did you think? Tell me in a review! As always, thanks for reading, my lovely chainsaws!**


	6. Chapter 6

***A/N: Hello my lovely chainsaws! I'm back with chapter 6 of Take Me To Your Best Friend's House! As always, thanks for reading!**

* * *

"Mom! We're back home!" Alfred yelled as soon as we entered the house. In a matter of seconds, Michelle dashed over to the front door. Without even acknowledging us, she started slapping Francis, who was still asleep.

"Good morning, sunshine!" She eerily whispered as she continued to beat him senseless. After minutes of hearing Michelle's palm smacking against his face, Francis finally woke up with numerous bruises on his face.

"Why are you hitting me, mon amour?" He smiled despite the pain that was prominent on his face.

"Because you," She hit him once again, "left my son over at a stranger's house!"

"He is not a stranger, Michelle!"

"Not to us, but Matthew barely knows him!"

I held back the laughter that was building up inside of me, while Alfred didn't even bother to hide his chuckling fit. Without any verbal agreement, we both decided to head to Alfred's room to discuss the matter of him liking Gilbert. After all, we knew Michelle was going to continue to slap Francis as punishment for getting drunk last night.

"So..." I tried to break the silence that made it's way between us as soon as I closed Alfred's bedroom door. "You like Gilbert?"

"I thought that was clear, Mattie. And you say _I'm_not the sharpest tool in the shed." He awkwardly laughed. As if to break yet another silence that somehow found it's way into the already-awkward conversation, he began to sing.

_"I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed~ She was looking kinda dumb with her finger and her thumb-"_

"Anyways!" I interrupted the screeching he considered singing. "When did this little...crush arise?"

"When Francis first introduced me to Gilbert. I mean, it was more of an admiration for him back then, but recently...I don't know, I just feel attracted to him." He explained. "What about you?" He asked with a smirk.

"What?" The grin that he wore proudly on his face was beginning to scare me.

"You know," He stood up and walked over to where I was standing. He straightened out his slouch, trying to remind me that he was taller than me. "When did _your_ crush on Gilbert arise?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." My voice was shaky.

"You know what I'm talking about!" He suddenly shouted. "You like Gilbert. I see it in your eyes. That's why you didn't want me to come with you to his house for dinner! You want Gilbert all for yourself!" He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt.

"I-I..." I couldn't think of a proper response.

"Whatever." He released my collar from his tight grip. "I'm not going to waste my time on yelling at you."

"Thank God." I mumbled as I straightened out the wrinkles he left behind on my shirt.

"I'm going to spend my time on making Gilbert love me." He turned around and began walking towards his closet. He pulled open the doors to his closet, looking through his clothes. "May the best man win, Mattie."

I swallowed and slowly walked away from Alfred's room. I'd never heard him speak with such a low, venom-filled, dead serious voice. And I'm sure neither Francis nor Michelle had either. Who wouldn't be scared when your brother who's inches taller than you with more strength than a freaking bull screams his head off at you for liking the same guy he does?

You'd have to be an idiot or have no fears and give no fucks whatsoever to not be afraid of _that._

I sighed in relief of being in the comfort of my room. In there, I was safe from the monstrosity Alfred had become.

* * *

"Yo! Dad!" I called for Francis as I dashed down the stairs. He was sitting on the living room couch with the back of his right hand practically glued to his forehead with sweat. Damn. Not only did he have a bad hangover, Michelle beat the crap out of him. I kinda felt bad for him. Whatever; the worse his condition was, the more he wouldn't want to talk to me, and therefore the chances of him giving me permission to go to Gilbert's house because I was annoying him were pretty high!

"Hm? What do you need, mon fils?" He mumbled.

"Can I go to Gilbert's house? I want a burger! You guys had burgers, right?"

"Oui; just go." He muttered something about how I shouldn't eat all the burgers, but I was too ecstatic over the fact I was able to see the _smoking_ hot "Prussian" once again.

Immediately after Francis granted me permission, I unlocked the front door. Just as I was about to run over to my car, I felt eyes staring at me. I did a complete 360 with my heels and met the angry violet eyes of my step-brother. I smiled and stuck my tounge out at him as I dashed out of the house. What a wonderful thing to see my brother so green with envy!

Don't get me wrong, Matthew's a good guy. Cooks and cleans when he doesn't have to and all that shit. If he didn't have such an obvious crush on Gilbert, we'd be great brothers. I'd been wishing on stars and watching "How To Get A Guy To Like You" videos on Youtube for years upon years! I wasn't going to give up on the Prussian so easily. It's completely unfair for Matthew to simply take him away from me when I worked so hard!

Even if it meant having to intimidate Matthew so everytime he catches a glimpse of my face he's chilled to the bone, I'd get Gilbert.

* * *

***A/N: I'm sorry; this chapter is so short! I promise it'll be longer next time! As always, thanks for reading and please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

***A/N: What's up, my lovely chainsaws? Today is my birthday! Happy birthday to me! As always, thanks for reading and please review!**

* * *

I angrily slammed my bedroom door shut. The sound of it being slammed into it's original closed position echoed throughout the entire house. But I couldn't care less about being an 'inconvenience' to Francis and Michelle at that moment. Alfred recieved permission from Francis to go to Gilbert's house. We only have one car for the entire house to use, so I had no possible way to get to Gilbert's house if I wanted to.

Although I was pissed the fuck off, I didn't want mess around with Alfred. He'd probably beat me down right now if he found out I was even _thinking_ of going to Gilbert's house.

I desperately tried to restrain myself from kicking my desk chair and punching it relentlessly. I already slammed my door, any other sign of anger and Michelle would immediately march up the stairs to my room and interrogate me about what's bothering me until I'd finally decide to spill the beans.

"Deep breath, Matthew." I whispered as I inhaled as much air as my lungs could possibly hold and blew it all out until I was panting. I then took a normal breath and returned to my normal pace of inhaling and exhaling.

I took a seat on my bed and wrapped my arms around Kumamatata(or whatever the hell it's name is) as I tried to think of all the techniques to get rid of stress and anger I'd learned on the internet when I was extremely bored with my life.

Count to ten.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Nope, I was still angry. I supplied myself with yet another idea.

Write down all my problems on a piece of paper and burn/tear it.

I reached for the clipboard and a piece of paper sitting on my desk and jotted down Alfred's name. Underneath it, I began to list all the reasons why I was angry at him. First of all, he used the _only_ car to go to Gilbert's house and 'eat burgers.' 'Eat burgers' my ass! He was going to try to eat _something,_ though. That horny little shit. Second of all, he's _threatening_ me. Even if it was I who went to Gilbert's house to 'eat burgers,' as soon as I'd return home Alfred would've killed me. Or at least, attempt to.

Eventually, I got tired of writing out all the reasons I was pissed off. Instead, I wrote Alfred's name practically a million times and tore the paper to shreds. I tried to quiet my grunts(as I'm sure Michelle and Francis would suspect that something was up) as I ripped the already-small fragments of paper into even smaller ones. I spent the rest of my useless and boring day repeating the same exact process of writing down Alfred's name and ripping up the paper.

* * *

Suddenly, the sound of the doorbell ringing interrupted my piece. I was simply jaw jackin', but I didn't really want to do anything today. Or interact with anyone. I took a deep breath and slowly walked over to the front door.

"Hey Gil!" Alfred smiled as soon as I opened the door.

"Oh. Hello, Alfred." I unenthusiastically replied.

"So I came over for some burgers. Ya'll had some burgers last night, right?" Everytime Alfred was excited or talking to his friends in a comfortable manner his southern accent would begin to creep into his voice. I prepared for the horrible butchered English language that was about to pour from his mouth.

"These burgers are good!" He grinned and tore into the burger he'd just microwaved. I sat in the seat across from him at the table, not really paying attention to the words Alfred was saying. "So it's been a while since the last toad choker, huh?" He tried to start a conversation.

"What's a toad choker?" I asked. Sometimes he'd slip some 'Texan' words into a normal conversation. It bothered me, but I guess I can't complain about it too much since I say German words every once in a while.

"It's like a really heavy rain." He reached for an invisible soda that was apparently supposed to be next to his elbow. "Where's the Coke?" He asked as he began to search around the kitchen for a soda.

"It's in the refrigerator." I pointed to the refrigerator sitting in the corner of the kitchen.

"Thanks." He reached inside of it and pulled out a Sprite.

"I thought you wanted a Coke?" I said.

"Yeah! So I got me a Coke." He answered, a bit baffled by my question. I realized that in Texas, where Alfred was born and raised, every soda pop was apparently called "Coke." I'd visited Texas once, and for lunch I stopped at a local Burger King. The cashier kept asking me what kind of Coke I wanted, which greatly confused me. I persistently repeated the sentence "You only have regular Coke!" like it was some kind of mantra. The woman behind me in line had to explain that 'Coke' is a synonym for 'soda' in Texas.

Finally, Alfred finished his burger. Before he opened the front door, he spun around and rushed over to me to give me a hug. It was such a spontaneous motion; no one ever plans that your best friend's kid will randomly hug you before leaving your house. I awkwardly patted his back as he tightly held onto my being as if his very life depended on it.

"See ya later, Gilbert!" He winked as he fled from my house.

Luckily, he'd had the decency to properly close the door and lock it. I silently thanked him for actually being considerate for once and layed back down on my living room couch. My arms folded back behind my head as I gazed at the fan hanging on the ceiling. I realized that I'd never turned the fan off even once during that entire year. Said fan had to spin it's blades 'round and 'round for 365 days. But that's the normal life of a fan, isn't it? Every once in a while you'd turn it off to clean it, or if you were one of those people who hated cleaning, you'd turn it off when winter would arrive.

Every single day the fan works hard, trying to tone down the heat of the summer.

Suddenly, an image of Matthew popped into my mind along with memories of my teenage years. It seems like everyday you're working; trying to please someone that'll never be satisfied with your labor. Teenage years may be considered the best years of one's life to adults, but I still don't see why people would want to be teenagers again. Everyone goes through that phase in which you desire something unattainable.

In Matthew's case, all he wants is to be noticed. He wants people to realize he's there. When I was a teenager, all I wanted was to be accepted by my family. Sure, I'd made some stupid choices back then. But that didn't mean I deserved less love than Ludwig.

We're just like the fan that spins on the ceiling, forgotten amongst all the other tasks it's owner has to tend to. Yet it keeps spinning, expecting to get a break and have dust cleaned off of it, only to be switched back on and be forced to whirl around again and again.

Chasing a goal that's unattainable...

How tragic.

* * *

***A/N: Hope you liked it! The next update will be on the 7th because I'll have family over for Thanksgiving. Speaking of which, I hope you have a happy Thanksgiving(if you're in America or a U.S territory, of course)! Thanks for reading and please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

"Stupid Alfred. Taking the car." I muttered other insults to my insolent, bratty 'brother' as I tiptoed down the stairs. Even if I wasn't trying to be discrete about my actions, Francis still wouldn't have stopped me. He was in too much pain from Michelle's punches that left bruises all over his 'beautiful face.' And besides, he was experiencing a killer hangover.

"Don't think, feel..." He randomly whispered to himself. Why the hell was quoting Bruce Lee all of a sudden? "It's like some finger looking up to the moon. Don't look at the finger or you'll miss all the angelic brilliance! But I'm too in pain to feel a damned thing!" He yelled, horribly butchering the quote. Makes sense why he wouldn't say it properly, since his brain was being attacked from his hangover.

"Shut up, Francis! Stop complaining!" I heard Michelle yell from behind the closed master bedroom's door.

"I'm not complaining, I'm..." Francis trailed off. "I'm quoting Bruce Lee. The dragon."

"Tout ce que. Taisez-vous!" She scolded him in French.

I bit my bottom lip to stifle my laughter as I slowly opened and closed the front door. Thank God for Michelle owning a new house, for it made not a single creak.

* * *

I made my way down the sidewalk, planning to sit down and relax at the coffee shop only a few blocks away from my house. The neighborhood was as rowdy and boisterous as it always is, with children running up and down the street playing tag with each other while their parents discussed how much of a handful it was to take care of them. However, many of the kids that were usually found playing tag in the street were walking towards the park that day.

For some odd reason, the children are compelled to bike to the park and play on the swings and in the sandboxes on a certain day of the week. I feel as if they all have some secret meetings where they talk about which day of the week they'd go to play in the park. They'd also debate on who would bring the juice boxes and gummy bears as a snack on the same day.

No matter how the kids ended up going to the park all on the same day, one kid in particular caught my eye. Unlike all the other children giggling and playfully pushing around each other, the small boy in front of me was walking leisurely with his hands resting in his pocket while he sang in a foreign language.

"Da jia tong xin zuo zhan rang xiang nu jue wang!" He sang with a strong tone you wouldn't expect from a kid of his small size. "Wei he zhe qun shi bing dou xiang ge gu niang!"

I just knew I recognized the song! The tune was all too familiar; the song's title was on the tip of my tounge. Once I realized the melody of the Disney song that was originally in Mandarin Chinese and sung by Jackie Chan, I blurted it out like an idiot.

"Make a man out of you! From Mulan!" I shouted. The boy simply looked up at me with a startled look, not with a single bit of annoyance. He was probably just realizing I was there. "The Mandarin version, anyways. Right?" I shyly added.

"Yeah. It's cool that you recognized it, Xiansheng." I recognized the word; my classmate Yao had used it when he spoke to his Russian teacher who spoke Chinese. There was something going on between the two of them. Everyone could see it.

"Well, Mulan's a popular movie. I'm sure anyone would've recognized it." I noticed the other kids running off to the park. "Oh, I'm sorry if I'm taking you from going to the park before curfew."

"What can you take from me which is not already yours? Just keep on flowing, since running water never grows stale, and walk on!" He grinned and dashed off to talk with his friend who happened to be across the street.

Those words seemed strangely familiar.

* * *

"Hello, welcome to Crazylicious Coffee!" The cashier greeted me. "We're a bit packed right now, so I don't think there's a seat availa-"

"Excuse me!" A man with glasses and a mole on his pale face called. "There's an empty seat right here." He pointed to the seat next to him.

I thanked him as I quietly pulled out the chair and sat in it. I looked at the menu, looking for something inexpensive, but not so cheap the classy-looking man that had just offered me a seat would receive a bad first impression of me. After a few moments, the waitress came by and asked for our orders.

"I'll have a medium-sized coffee." The man sitting beside me said. "But no sugar, please."

"Okay, I'll be right back." She began to walk away before he called her back.

"You forgot to get this young man's order." He motioned to me.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sir! What can I get you?" At least her apology sounded sincere. Most people faked it.

"I'll get a medium coffee as well, with two tablespoons of sugar, please." After I ordered and she returned to the coffee pot to make our beverages, I leaned back in my chair.

"Two tablespoons? That's a lot of sugar, you know." The man said. "Well, you're young. Kids your age must only like things so sweet you get a cavity each time you taste it."

"I don't usually drink coffee. It'll taste really bitter if I don't put sugar in it." I replied a bit awkwardly.

"I see. What's your name?" He trailed off, silently asking for my name.

"Matthew. Matthew Williams. And you are?"

"Roderich Edelstein. You look familiar, Matthew. Are you by any chance related to a man named Francis Bonnefoy?" He asked.

"He's my step-father, actually. People say we look alike, though we're not related by blood." I explained, surprised Roderich knew Francis.

"Ah. He's best friends with Gilbert, the reason I came back here. I always come to this shop when I think about...him." He sighed. "Do you know Gilbert Beilshmidt?"

"I do!" I answered, although there was more than a bit of anxiousness in my words.

"He broke my heart." Roderich blatantly said. "But that was a long time ago. You're a bit...excited now that Gilbert was mentioned. Does this little Canadian boy have a bit of a thing for albino Germans?" He teased.

"Not at all!" I laughed as I playfully elbowed his arm. His face heated up from the action, a quite simple one at that.

* * *

"If he messes with you, give me a call, alright?" I said as we were about to part. I had written my number down on a napkin and placed it in Matthew's jacket pocket. "It's late. You shouldn't have talked with me for so long. I'm quite boring. Music is the only language I speak well and fluently. Even Austrian can't compare to sightreading quarter and half notes." I rambled uncharacteristically, not wanting to walk away from Matthew.

Once I returned home, I'd continue to compose a piece on my piano that I'd never play for anyone but myself and go to sleep so I could get to work on time the next day. But nothing, not even what's supposed to be a wonderful realm of slumber, can save me from the thoughts of Gilbert. How in love I was, and how devastated I was when he broke up with me. How I cried myself to sleep for a month, but still woke up in the morning to drag my Austrian ass to work and ignore the questions I'd receive about my tired and red-from-crying eyes.

But speaking to Matthew, or speaking to another human being in general, brought a bit of spice into my life. For once I hadn't returned to the coffee shop to try and escape being haunted by the memories of that German and left wanting to fall in love once more, with someone who wouldn't break my heart.

For this time, I'd met Matthew. And I knew that I'd fallen in love once again.

* * *

***A/N: Roderich's got a thing for young Canadian boys too, huh? I'm sorry if Roderich seems a bit OOC. I don't really know how to write him. And the little kid saying walk on, keep on flowing, and Francis saying don't think, feel are all references to Bruce Lee. His birthday was on the 27th of November. I love Bruce Lee and his movies; in fact I have his 'Striking Thoughts' book. Good stuff. As always my lovely chainsaws, thanks for reading and please review! WAIT! I have an announcement. Sadly, this story will be going on hiatus. I never wanted to do this, but because I have HUGE exams coming up, I need to put this story on on hold until they're all over. But I'll be back soon! Love you guys!**


	9. Chapter 9

"I'm only doing this to protect you." Roderich told me. "He messed with me a bit, too. But I'll help you out if you're truly in love with him."

I nodded and gave him a fraction of a smile that wasn't meaningful. "Thank you." I glance down at my watch and abruptly my eyes dart to the sky.

"Yes, it's quite dark out." The Austrian noticed me staring at the raven-black sky. "I apologize for keeping you so long."

"No, it's fine." I reassured him. "Really." I added almost a second too late.

And with those words we whispered a soft farewell that only we could hear. My house was only just down the street with the coffee shop and the park numerous kids were drawn to and to the very last left turn before you hit the local high school I attended. It wasn't that far of a walk in my opinion, as opposed to Alfred's complaining each time we had to buy Francis and Michelle some coffee beans from the coffee shop. As I was walking home, I heard a man mumbling to himself. I turned around and saw a blonde man with gigantic eyebrows and emerald eyes.

"Bloody hell!" He pointed at me once he noticed me staring at him. "Another one of those God-awful teenagers!"

I recognized him from somewhere. I furrowed my eyebrows in concentration, but after a few moments I identified his familiar eyebrows. He was taught 9th grade English/Language Arts at my high school! I didn't have him when I was a freshman; I had Mr. Hamilton. Mr. Hamilton was a quite...rounded fellow, but he lost some weight over the years. Now that I was in my senior year, he looked to only be a bit overweight. He still had 'bingo wings' and fat puffing up his cheeks, but even so, he was in shape. He had a heart full of gold and acted like a 6th grade teacher most of the time, giving out candy to those who answered questions correctly.

Mr. Kirkland, on the other hand, was the human version of the Grinch. No doubt about it. He lectured his students all the time about how they had no creativity in their writing, despite him lacking spontaneity himself. Or at least, that's what my classmates would tell me.

"Mr. Kirkland." I said in response.

"Well at least this one has the decency to add a 'mister' before my name like all those other delinquents!" He laughed with a bitter grimace on his face. As soon as his odd chuckle came out, I squinted my eyes to get a closer look at his face. The darkness of the night made it a bit harder to see, after all.

Almost immediately I noticed a red hue in his cheeks. "Sir, I don't mean to be rude, but are you drunk?" I asked.

"Of course not; I can handle my liquor much better than you can!" He exclaimed. "If you drank liquor, that is."

I shook my head as I walked away from the Englishman muttering curses under his breath.

* * *

"Where were you?" Alfred asked as soon as I stepped inside the house.

"Places." I answered, rolling my eyes as I made my way to my room upstairs.

"Well, _I_ was at Gilbert's house." He said.

"I know that." I replied.

"So Gilbert and I-" I cut him off with a sentence I'd said in the blur of the moment.

I honestly hadn't meant to say it, I really didn't! It just kind of...came out. I desperately wanted him to shut his trap, and I guess at that exact moment I thought that was the only way to. Had I actually thought about what I was about to say, I wouldn't feel the guilt, stress, and worry I would have to face in the future.

"Well, I scored a date with a cute Austrian guy while I was out."

* * *

My finger slipped, playing a D flat rather than an E flat. I threw my hands up in frustration. Fur Elise wasn't even that hard to play! However, I hadn't run through the entire piece for quite a bit of time. I'd say I was just rusty, but I knew that wasn't true. I knew the notes and the tempo perfectly in spite of the fact I hadn't played it in its entirety for a long time. Let's face it, I was distracted with flashbacks to when I spoke to a certain Canadian over a good cup of coffee.

"Speak of the devil." I muttered as I answered my phone that had only gone off a few moments after my glaring mistake.

"What?" Matthew asked confusedly. I could practically hear his shy smile through the phone.

"Nothing." I answered. "So, Gilbert messed with you_ already_?"

"No! It's not that!" Matthew exclaimed. "I just...wanted to ask-"

"Dude, you're on the phone? It better be with _him_, not _him_!" A loud, rowdy voice emphasizing the words 'him' interrupted Matthew.

"Shut up, Alfred! And yes, I'm on the phone with _him_. The first him, that is." Matthew explained. "I'm sorry. My stupid brother needs to learn how to respect my time on the phone!"

"I heard that!" The same voice yelled back.

"That's why I said it so loud! So...I just wanted to ask..." Matthew's soft voice trailed off.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I wanted to ask if," he paused once again, "if you wanted to go on a date this Saturday?"

My eyes widened as I heard him quietly say those words. I nodded, but then realized I was speaking to him over the phone.

"Yes." I whispered as if the word were a secret and quickly hung up the phone out of sheer embarrassment. Well, I wasn't exactly embarrassed; the hanging up of the phone was more out of being flustered.

* * *

I sighed, setting my cell phone down on my desk in my room. I still didn't understand why I declared that I had a date with Roderich. Then again, Alfred _did_ shut his trap. But was it worth lying to someone who obviously liked me? If he hadn't liked me, he would've declined the date. I blamed Alfred for running his mouth, despite the fact that I was to blame for saying that I had a date with him.

For once, I was more disappointed and angry in myself rather than Alfred.

* * *

***A/N: I know that 'hiatus' wasn't even that long. I didn't update for, what, a week? I had exams. And I got A's on all of them! Yeah! As always, my lovely chainsaws, thanks for reviewing and please review!**


	10. Chapter 10

"Little bastard." I mumbled to myself as I peered through the small opening in Matthew's door. "I almost feel bad for him."

Matthew looked like a hot mess. His hands were fisted in his hair as he sobbed loudly. He chanted the words "I hate myself" like it was some life-saving mantra while he kicked his feet against his bed relentlessly like a little kid. Notice that while I was muttering to myself I said I _almost _felt bad for him. Perhaps if I wasn't so determined to get Gilbert to fall hopelessly in love with me, I'd burst into that room and hug him like a brother should.

And I'm not trying to be sarcastic at all with that sentence. I honestly would dash over to his crying body and wrap my arms around him had I not been after Gilbert for so long.

As a matter of fact, I had to _fight _that urge to be awesomely brother-like and remind myself that this is all for the greater good. Matthew will fall in love with that Austrian dude and I'll get Gilbert. It's a win-win situation, right?

* * *

"Wrong!" I practically shouted at the inanimate object-a maple syrup bottle-before me. I'd been searching for the exact same syrup that I used the other day(since I'd finished it rather quickly); that glorious tasting, amber, sweet and sugary syrup. How on Earth did the awesome me go so long without it? "This isn't it!"

Fellow customers were beginning to stare at me, and I couldn't care less.

"Fucking hard to be me." I muttered under my breath, scanning the shelves full of various toppings like sprinkles and syrup. "People are simply drawn to my awesomeness. I can't even go maple-syrup watching without them staring."

Annoyed that yet another store did not carry the brand of maple syrup I was looking for, I harshly spun around on my heel to walk towards the exit. However, with my very first step, I bumped into another customer.

"Sorry!" They shrieked, immediately picking up my shopping basket they'd caused me to drop. I recognized the customer I'd just bumped into.

"Birdie!" I shouted and wrapped my arms around his small(in comparison to mine) body. "What are you doing here?"

* * *

_Buying food for the picnic Roderich and I are going to have because I decided to run my mouth without thinking_, I thought. I couldn't tell him the truth about being semi-forced by Alfred to go on a date with his ex-boyfriend! He'd think I wasn't into him!

Well, I'd never admit that I was worrying about that.

"I'm just," I trailed off, "grocery shopping. Francis and Michelle told me to go and get some bread."

"Oh." Gilbert said. "It's a good thing you're here, Birdie, so we can go maple syrup shopping together! This store doesn't have the brand I'm looking for, though. So maybe when you pick up your bread and check out we can go to that other grocery store across the street!"

_This is your chance. Take him up on his offer or you'll be crying and cursing yourself and Alfred in that oddly clean room of yours soon._ I thought.

"Okay." I answered. I can always go pick up picnic food later, right? Besides, I'll already have the bread at the ready if I get it now!

Gilbert then began to follow me to aisle four, the grains aisle. Bags of rice varying from white to brown and cans of uncooked oatmeal filled up two entire shelves. It wasn't until I reached the other half of the aisle that I saw such a wide variety of bread. Bread with raisins, bread with nuts, bread with thick(er) crusts. I can't say I was surprised by the wide selection of bread, but more surprised by the fact I had no idea what to get. What kind of bread would Roderich want with his sandwich?

Minutes of staring at the bread selection and Gilbert laughing at my focus on the bread and asking me if I was okay had passed, and I settled on getting regular white bread. We chatted about the 'awesomeness' of pancakes and maple syrup while we waited in line for the cash register. The cashier was muttering something about her 'bitch-ass, motherfucking, good-for-nothing' cousin under her breath while she scanned my loaf of bread. With venom in her slightly deep voice when she told me my total. A bit scared by her ranting voice barking at me, I shoved a twenty dollar bill in her direction and shifted my weight onto my left foot. She handed me my change and said: "Have a bitch-ass, motherfucking, good-for-nothing cousin-free, nice day!" while we walked away.

"We just _had_ to get the insanely pissed off at the fucking world cashier." Gilbert laughed once we arrived in the parking lot. Gilbert lived nearby the store, so he just walked there. I, however, took the family car and was leading him to said vehicle.

"She kind of scared me, Gil." I answered with a grin. "I mean, who wouldn't be intimidated by a girl with a female version of Morgan Freeman's voice yelling how much your bread costs?"

Gilbert simply laughed at my reply and climbed into the passenger's seat of my family's shitty car.

"You're funny," he began, "that's one of the reasons why I sometimes have the urge to hug and kiss you."

"God, you're straightforward." I said without a second top as I pulled out of the tiny parking space.

* * *

For the rest of the day, Gilbert had teased me and jested about how lame other brands of maple syrup were. In response to his utterly true statements, I laughed and even _giggled like a schoolgirl_-as he put it. It felt like the extremely fun and exciting day ended all too soon once he purchased the bottle of maple syrup he'd been searching for since 'forever.' He was simply beginning to walk away in the direction of his house before I called out to him one last time.

"Gilbert!" He turned around.

"Missed me already?" The German chuckled.

"Cocky bastard." I yelled with a smile beginning to spread across my face. "Anyways, be sure to call me later on!" The albino nodded in response and continued to walk away.

* * *

"One. Missed. Call." Alfred said with a dangerous level of venom seeping into his voice. The American was furious. While his brother Matthew was driving home from a fun day with Gilbert(not that Alfred knew that), said albino called him. Alfred simply couldn't believe the sight of Matthew's phone flashing on and showing a system message that read 'one missed call.

"I won't let you have him." Alfred was almost on the verge of tears when he said this to himself. Tears were forming in the corner of his eyes, and he blinked repeatedly to try and make the tears disappear. "Not after how long it's been! I don't give a shit if you like him and he likes you back. It's not fair that you had a family, and then when they left, you had a blood relative who loved you and you could just waltz into Gilbert's life and make him fall in love with you!"

Perhaps Alfred honestly _didn't_ hate Matthew for liking the same man he desired. He was simply jealous that the Canadian had a better chance than him.

* * *

***A/N: That cashier person is supposed to be me. I'm pissed off that my cousin that I hate so much is coming over the day this is posted. She's a total bitch. The first time we saw each other since we were in diapers, the first thing she said was: "Well, you got chubby." Not even a 'hello' or a simply 'how are you?' And from then on, she simply insulted me for the entire we week she was here. And now she's coming back. Well, as always, thanks for reading and please review, my lovely chainsaws!**


	11. Chapter 11

_"But that's not fair!" Alfred wailed. _

_"Life isn't fair," Mrs. Van Houten retorted as she ran her duster over the shelf of one of her bookshelves, "And you're just going to have to deal with it."_

_"No one ever wants me!" Alfred shouted, balling his tiny hands into fists. _

_"Because you throw temper tantrums like this all the time!" Mrs. Van Houten yelled back. "Now go to your room or I'll tell Mr. Van Houten to get off his drunken ass and give you a well-deserved spanking!"_

_Alfred threw his small hands down in frustration and ran away from Mrs. Van Houten's office as fast as his child legs could carry him. Alfred hated the Van Houten orphanage. He'd seen kids come and go; every kid he'd ever met at the orphanage had been adopted. Then new kids would move in and take the old ones' places. Alfred was the only child who hadn't left._

_Mr. Van Houten hated him. He was drinking beer all the time and his only job was to punish-spank-children if they disobeyed Mrs. Van Houten._

_Mrs. Van Houten hated Alfred as well. The boy would always rant about how he should've been adopted in place of whatever kid had been adopted most recently. And his tantrums bugged the shit out of Mrs. Van Houten. _

* * *

_Even more years had passed._

_Alfred was now 14 and had only been considered once for adoption. He'd grown up to be a strong kid for his young age, with the ability to bench press quite a lot of pounds as opposed to Mr. Van Houten who couldn't even lift a case of beer anymore. Mrs. Van Houten was growing old and weary as well, her attitude towards Alfred-or the kids at the orphanage in general-had grown even more bitter. Kids would get half-the-pain slaps rather than spanks, after all, Mr. Van Houten's muscles had practically wasted away along with any signs of health._

_The man always was a drunken bastard._

_Alfred's eyes opened to the sound of the orphanage's doorbell chiming throughout the house. He rose sluggishly his sleeping position on his hard mattress. He ran down the stairs-all 5 flights; he also had a lot of stamina for such a young kid-and watched Mrs. Van Houten slowly open the door. _

_"Hello!" The old woman greeted the man before her. He had shoulder length blonde hair with blue eyes, along with a button up shirt that was unbuttoned that revealed a T-shirt with a rose printed on it covering his torso. His style never really did change. nob_

_"Hello!" The man greeted with an equal amount of enthusiasm. He had a clear French accent. "I'd like to adopt a child."_

_Alfred's eyes lit up with hope. Perhaps, this time, he had a chance of leaving the God-awful orphanage._

_"Oh, well come in!" Mrs. Van Houten motioned for him to enter the large building. She guided him to the office, telling him to sit down and tell her about what child he'd like to adopt._

_"Any child. Can I meet them all?" The Frenchman asked. _

_"Of course!" Mrs. Van Houten smiled and exited the office. "Kids! Get down here! We have a customer!" She yelled._

_'God, she makes us sound like fucking prostitutes.' Alfred thought as he made his way towards Mrs. Van Houten. He had developed quite a vocabulary after spending hours being forced to clean up after Mr. Van Houten's drunken self. After all the children had gathered in front of the office, Mrs. Van Houten opened the door and invited the kids one at a time to come in and meet Mr. Bonnefoy-as she'd introduced him. Hours upon hours later, it was Alfred's turn. He slowly turned the office's doorknob and stepped inside the room. Mr. Bonnefoy smiled at Alfred._

_"Hello. What's your name?" His French accent was pretty thick, but coherent._

_"I'm Alfred." Alfred said. He reminded himself of the three rules when meeting a possible-father/mother. 1. Don't act too excited. 2. Don't act innocent(being 14, innocence wouldn't help him much). 3. Don't act like yourself. Because, as Mrs. Van Houten had told him numerous times before, Alfred had a rotten behavior pattern._

_"Well, hello, Alfred! I'm Francis." Mr. Bonnefoy said. "How old are you?"_

_"I'm 14." Alfred answered._

_"14!" Mr. Bonnefoy cried out, jumping to his feet. "You must be the oldest one here!"_

_"I am." Alfred replied, taken aback by the Frenchman standing up all of a sudden._

_"And he hasn't been adopted yet?" Francis shrieked when he saw Mrs. Van Houten shake her head. "That's terrible! I'd like to adopt Alfred."_

_"Really?" Alfred and Mrs. Van Houten cried out at the simultaneously. The old woman staggered over to the Frenchman who's arm was securely wrapped around Alfred's skinny neck._

_"There are plenty other kids who haven't met you yet, sir! Why don't you get to meet them all-"_

_"Nope. My mind is set. It is Alfred who I want to adopt." Francis declared with great confidence."_

* * *

And if it weren't for him, I'd be in that damned orphanage, either beaten or worked to death. I still have no idea what the hell became of the Van Houten's, only that their orphanage still remained in the same place. Sometimes I'd stop by there on my way to wherever it is I'm going and just sit in the driver's seat, staring at the building. It must've aged a hundred years in the four years I'd been gone. The orphanage was old and grayed, looking as if it were to fall over at any moment. I can only hope that the insides were in tact, for the sake of the poor kids who ended up there.

I still hated the Van Houtens.

I guess that's why I admire Francis so much. He had the heart to adopt a 14 year old kid who was dangerously skinny(but strong despite the visual of muscles) and unhealthy. I had terribly loud and boisterous behavior, no sense of manners or dress(another thing Francis valued). But he taught me, slowly but surely, how to treat others with kindness, to love and be loving, and of course, how to properly grow a rose garden. He was everything the Van Houtens weren't. One of the pieces of advice he'd given me had given me the determination I was well known for.

_"If you really want something in life, you're going to have to work for it. Nothing comes easily. Everything is a product of hard work. So, if you really want something, work hard and you'll have it."_

If his word was true, and it usually was, if I worked hard enough, Gilbert would be mine.

Besides, didn't yet _another _great man say:

"All's fair in love and war!"

* * *

***A/N: This is mostly a chapter to explain the story of how Francis adopted Alfred. Anyways, I hope you guys had a happy new year! Thanks for reading and please review, my lovely chainsaws!**


	12. Chapter 12

"Are you ready?" Alfred asked, scanning my casual outfit I'd just thrown on. "You know, for your little _date_ with Richerod? Or whatever the hell his name is."

"It's Roderich." I corrected with a sigh. "Dumbass." I added under my breath.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Alfred questioned with a slight anger tingeing his voice.

"Nothing." I replied, spritzing some cologne Alfred had loaned me for my date today.

"You're lucky I gave you that." Alfred poked my side. "Not everyone can smell like an amazingly heroic American. But I think you can pull it off." He smiled. For a moment, we were both taken aback by the kindness slowly consuming his voice. "But not as good as I can." He added.

"Thanks." I said, handing him his bottle of strong cologne as I made my way downstairs. He handed me the picnic basket yet didn't follow me down to the bottom floor of the house, but he gazed at me as from the top of the stairs as I opened the front door.

"Don't be shy." Alfred said. "Just tell him whatever you feel like saying. Just...have fun and let whatever happens happen." He grinned his 'hero smile,' but it didn't seem as much of a douchebag smile as it usually was. It must've been the niceness he rarely showed towards me sparkling in his smile.

"Okay." I nodded, taking a step forward. I was on the verge of leaving, but I was expecting Alfred to say something. I wasn't exactly sure what I wanted him to say, but I still felt the need not to leave until he said something else.

"See you later, bro." Alfred waved his right hand once before turning around and making his way back to his room.

"You too." I whispered, closing the door behind me and sauntering over to the family car and climbing into the driver's seat.

* * *

"Hello, Matthew." Roderich waved at me, a smile brightly shining on his face as he made his way over to me.

"Hi!" I replied, shaking my picnic basket a bit so he'd notice it. He offered to hold it, but I politely refused and told him I was okay with holding it myself. The whole date was awkward, if I had to use one word to describe it. Definitely awkward. I'd already predicted the great level of awkwardness that was to come by the time we picked an area in the park to lay our plaid picnic blanket down. We sat on it, our legs crisscrossed while we each pulled a sandwich out of the basket.

"What do you think?" I asked the Austrian. The sandwich was a simple one, two slices of ham and American cheese squeezed between two slices of plain white bread. No mustard or ketchup or mayonnaise. I wasn't sure which condiment Roderich liked best, so I just left them all out. I had a few small packets of ketchup, however, if he wanted it.

"I think," he tried to fake a Swiss accent(I assumed), "it tastes like sandwich."

I laughed, despite not knowing what the hell he was trying to reference. Awkwardly brushing a stray strand of hair that fell into my face during my equally as awkward laugh, I shoved another bite of the ham-and-cheese sandwich into my mouth.

"That was just something my friend said." Roderich explained, a bit confused as to why I was chuckling if I so obviously didn't get it.

"Oh." I said, moreover to myself, before I took a sip of the Coke I'd brought along as well. Roderich had only drunk a little of his Sprite. I guess he wasn't one for soda.

The Austrian nodded, as if he agreed with the little mutter I let out, although there wasn't much to agree with in the word "oh." That is, if you aren't understanding the reason why "oh" was spoken. See, I'd said it to confirm that I was indeed socially awkward enough to pretend I got jokes that were inside jokes between other people. And I'm guessing that Roderich noticed that.

"So, what kind of music do you listen to?" Roderich asked. If there was one thing he could talk about with no awkwardness at all, it was music. I felt like he was tossing me a shovel to dig my way out of the hole I'd buried myself in only 15 minutes into the date.

"I listen to a lot of different music." I was about to leave my response there, but Roderich was giving me that face that you make when your friend sends you a text you have no idea how to reply to. "But I listen to Punk Rock mostly, I guess."

"Oh. Any bands in particular?" He prodded as he swallowed a bite of his sandwich. He grabbed his can of Sprite and took another sip, but it was obvious he didn't like it, with his scrunching of the nose and furrowed eyebrows and whatnot.

"I listen to a _lot_ of bands." I smiled as soon as I wolfed down the last bite of my food. "Like My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy-I hope the hiatus ends soon-, All Time Low, Linkin Park, and Rise Against. But my favorite band is definitely Panic! at the Disco."

"I _love_ Panic! at the Disco." Roderich smiled a soft smirk. "What's your favorite song? I think my favorite is Sarah Smiles. I like how you can hear the vibrato in Brendon's voice better in that song."

"Oh, I like that song too." I responded. "It's really hard to pick a 'favorite song' with your favorite band. But I think my favorite song by them is Camisado."

We continued to discuss songs by Panic! at The Disco, which eventually led to a conversation about Fall Out Boy, and then to a conversation about Pete Wentz. Of course, there was the given discussion about Pete and Ashley Simpson. Suddenly, the discussion escalated into an argument about if Ryan and Jon should've stayed in the band[Panic! at The Disco]. Roderich had apparently watched millions of interviews and decided that, if they had such big musical differences, it was for the best that they departed from the band. I guess I just kind of missed Panic!'s older sound.

"The Ballad of Mona Lisa sounds like old Panic!, I guess." Roderich said, referring to a song on their latest album "Vices & Virtues."

"Yeah." I nodded. That was the end of our long talk about Punk bands and their members, in which Roderich finally finished his sandwich and soda(he was a really slow eater) and we folded up the blanket and placed it in the bottom of the picnic basket.

While we were getting ready to go our separate ways-but Roderich had walked to the park, so I offered to drive him, to which he accepted; and so we were heading to the car-, I found Roderich staring at me. I didn't want to be rude and address the matter, so I just acted like I didn't feel his eyes on me at all. We were still walking though the healthily green grass of the park when the Austrian leaned towards me and softly pressed his lips against my cheek.

"I'm sorry." He said immediately afterwards.

"You don't have to apologize." I responded all to quickly. Roderich did the same, abruptly wrapping his right arm around my waist, forcing me to look him in the eye.

My violet eyes met his brown ones as he suddenly craned his neck forwards, kissing me. Our eyes both closed. Out of embarrassment, that is. Not that we were ashamed about the act of kissing one another, but that the other would regret it. (Which we really did it, but neither of us were the type to try and make things more awkward than they already were.)

The kiss wasn't necessarily "quick," but it wasn't some passionate make-out session. No tongue, none at all, which I was kind of grateful for. Not that I didn't want to kiss him, I just didn't want the kiss to escalate to anything more than a simple first-date kiss. After a few moments of our pale lips being pressed against each other, we pulled away for air. I heard a voice calling out at us. It came from behind me, but I immediately recognized who was calling out to us. Roderich's eyes widened as he laid his eyes on them.

"Hey! Birdie!" Gilbert's voice sounded extremely confused. "And Roderich?"

* * *

***A/N: I'm sorry I'm a bit late with posting this up. I had (an all day) All-City choir yesterday. And on Friday, when I usually update, I actually didn't have this finished. OTL I know, I suck. But, thanks for reading and please review!**


	13. Chapter 13

"What are you doing here?" Roderich shouted, pointing his finger in Gilbert's direction.

"I should ask you the same thing!" Gilbert yelled back with equal force and volume, his eyebrows furrowed in anger. "You're the one kissing Birdie and all that shit!"

"_I_," Roderich began, his right hand hovering over his prideful chest, "am on a date with Matthew. Isn't it _obvious_?"

Gilbert paused, his jaw dropped in utter speechlessness. His eyes widened at the sight of the picnic basket I had firmly wrapped around my fingers. He didn't take a single step towards us, nor a single step back. He simply stood right in his place, his feet resting shoulder length apart from each other. He took a deep breath and tore his full-of-resentment-and-regret gaze away from Roderich and I. The albino looked as if he were about to walk away just then, but-for some odd reason-, he didn't. He furrowed his white eyebrows once again and glared at me.

"What the hell are you doing?" He practically screamed. His hands darted up to his hair, pulling and tugging at random strands with his fingers. If anyone were to look at us at that moment, they'd think he was insane.

Which is odd, because really, aren't _I_ the one whose insane? I'd somehow managed to go on a date with someone I didn't even have 'feelings' for. Sure, Roderich would make a great friend, but I wouldn't date him. But, because I'm the world's biggest idiot, I did. All this time, I'd been referring to Alfred with that title.

But all this time it's belonged to me. Are all the previous record holders of the world's biggest idiot supposed to fall down-from heaven or hell or wherever in between-and start applauding me? I can imagine it right now, men and women of all ages patting me on the back and complimenting me on how well I can say the first thing that comes to my mouth without thinking. And of course, Gilbert would be staring me down, just like he was doing now. With his ruby eyes even angrier than the red of a fire.

I glanced up at Roderich, who still had his arms wrapped around me. However, once he noticed my staring, he swiftly removed his purple silk-clad arms from my waist. All the while, he made sure to avoid eye contact with me. I knew how he felt. That feeling that you had no idea you were doing something wrong, and then when someone points it out, you feel ashamed of yourself for not knowing, even though it's not really your fault. He also had a look of betrayal prominently displayed on his face. I also knew how that felt like.

I felt betrayed by Alfred, ex-world's biggest idiot and the person Gilbert really deserved. Gilbert didn't need a childish boy like me infiltrating his life. A boy who didn't even know how to hold his own tongue, or how to not hurt someone's feelings, or how to deal with his own problems. Gilbert deserved someone who was willing to fight for him and themselves, and the only person I knew who'd properly serve that role was Alfred.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

Gilbert folded his arms and tried not to begin screaming his head off. Roderich simply kept his gaze trained on the park's glossy green grass. I was completely expecting this reaction.

After all, I wasn't apologizing to _them_.

I was apologizing to myself.

* * *

In the end, Roderich decided to walk home. Gilbert, less furious and moreover disappointed in Matthew, walked home as well. However, the Austrian and the German were going two separate directions, which was a good thing. Had their paths crossed once more, hell might've broken loose. Matthew silently climbed into his car hours after Roderich and Gilbert walked away from the dreaded park. The Canadian had spent those hours underneath an Oak tree, near where he and Roderich had their picnic, and cried his eyes out.

He sobbed about how he just betrayed Gilbert. Reading in between the lines was Matthew's forte. He _knew_ that Gilbert liked him(not because he could 'read in between the lines' but the German had said it numerous times before); no, he didn't simply 'like' him, Gilbert loved him. The German loved Matthew with all his heart. And Gilbert knew that somewhere, deep, deep, deep in Matthew's heart, the Canadian felt the exact same way. All his life, Matthew wanted someone to care, and Gilbert wanted to be that person who changed the Canadian's perspective of life from a gloomy and depressing one to an upbeat and hopeful one.

He also wept over the fact that he'd just broken Roderich's heart. Gilbert had already broken it, and the Austrian still hadn't gotten over it. Just then, while Matthew was crying under that shady Oak tree, the Canadian realized that he-when he asked Roderich out-had gotten Roderich out of his slump. And then he threw him right back in. Gave him hope then tore it right back.

And then he cried about having been a giant douchebag to Alfred. Sure, Alfred was a huge douchebag to him. But did he have to be the same? Did he have to sink down to his step-brother's level? No. He didn't have to at all. But he did, and he took Alfred's rightful place. Scratch that, he took Alfred's place that he'd worked for, for so long and then tossed it in the trash by going on a date with Roderich.

After hours of crying, he climbed into the driver's seat of the family car-as I'd said earlier-and began to drive away from the local park. His reddened-from-crying eyes strained to focus on the dark road ahead of him. The family car was nice, he had to admit that much, but the headlights and the taillights were broken. In other words, he was completely screwed when he drove at night. That's why there was a 'curfew.' Not because Francis and Michelle were strict 'parents,' but because they didn't want Alfred or Matthew to crash and die. And even Alfred, who Matthew thought of as the world's biggest douchebag up until that day, hadn't done that.

But Matthew, being the world's largest idiot, did.

He squinted, straining his dehydrated eyes to focus on the road even more. But what he didn't see was a car, whose driver had perfectly fine lights but was dumb enough to forgo turning them on, that'd drove in front of Matthew out of nowhere. His eyes widened as his mind processed exactly what was going on a second too late.

_'I'm dying.'_ Matthew thought as he heard the car burst into the side of his own. He caught eyes with the driver of the other car, both surprised by the crash. The difference in what they felt as soon as their cars connected was the cause of their fear. You see, the driver of the other car feared that he was about to die. That he wouldn't live to see what would happen tomorrow.

But Matthew, on the other hand, suddenly realized that he was about to die and ruin Francis and Michelle's life as well. As much as he didn't want them to, they'd start crying after hearing the news that their 'son' had just be announced dead. Alfred would be sad too, as much as Matthew knew the American wouldn't admit it. Even more lives to wreck. He'd never be able to patch things up with Gilbert or Roderich.

_'I'm about to die. I'll never see the sun rise over the horizon again. Or see the sun set. But most importantly, I'm going to ruin their lives. While I'm alive, I'll hurt them. And when I die, I'll scar them. I'll never be able to escape hurting them. Perhaps I should just accept it. But I can't. I can't die now. Not when I have the chance to change my last impression on the people who cared about me most. But..._

_That's too bad._

_Because right now, with this car ramming into mine and this broken airbag providing nothing to protect me from death, I'm going to die. And that, sadly, is final.'_

And so Matthew sighed, and braced himself for the blunt trauma and blood loss to come.

* * *

***A/N: No, this is not the end. It's nowhere near the end, my lovely chainsaws. As always, thanks for reading and please review!**


	14. Chapter 14

"Hey!" An average heighted woman scurried into the surveillance rooms, the edges of the papers on her clipboard bouncing up and down. She readjusted the bridge of her glasses sliding downwards on her nose and she came to a stop.

"What?" A man with his hair parted and combed back with loads of gel keeping the hairstyle in place asked, averting his eyes from the bright surveillance screens to listen to the woman who'd just dashed into the room.

"I have a message straight from the chief." She said, a bit rushed and hurrying as if her job depended on it. Which, it really didn't, she'd been good friends with the chief since about 7th grade. No reason the chief would end the friendship now, just because she didn't get her task done efficiently. But, just because the woman was afraid her airheaded self would forget what the chief had told her to do-which was extremely important-, she rushed to get the job done _now_.

"Okay, what is it?" The man continued, pushing a stray strand of hair that'd fallen into his face back into its place.

"We need to send an angel." The woman replied. "To Matthew Williams. He's on surveillance screen number...," she glanced back down at her papers before continuing, "3. He should be on your priorities list, too. Anyways, the chief wants an angel sent to him stat. Keep an eye on him and the angel, we don't want the mission to get all screwed up, you know."

"Yeah, I know." The man waved off the woman, grabbing his microphone and clearing his throat before flicking the on/off switch. "We need angel number," he glanced at his priorities list pinned between two surveillance screens, "1 to report to section 3. I repeat, angel number 1 to section 3."

He abruptly flipped the switch off and returned to lazily eyeing the surveillance screens and sipping his morning coffee.

* * *

"I'm sorry." Matthew whispered, preparing for the pain that was sure to come. He made sure those two words would be his last ones. It made sense, if you thought about his situation. Rather than other peoples' last words(such as "Don't let it end like this! Tell them I said something!" or "Useless"). He shut his eyes and waited for his forehead to promptly bang against the steering wheel.

But, that hitting of the forehead against the steering wheel never came in.

Suddenly, he saw a man that looked just like him standing in between the family car and the other driver's car. The man had his hand held up in a "stop" sign. Grimacing, he walked over to Matthew's car and opened the passenger's seat car door after a few moments of his hand being held in that stop position. Settling down in the seat, but not putting on his seatbelt, he turned to his doppelganger and stared at him a bit before talking.

"Hello. Welcome to a crappy version of 'It's A Wonderful Life.'" The Matthew-look-alike monotonously uttered. A random noise similar to that of thunder stroke the air. The look alike sighed. "I'm sorry. Let me try again. I'm Matthieu."

"Matthew?" Matthew asked confusedly.

"MatthIEU. Spelled with an I-E-U at the end but sounds the exact same as your name. I know, so original. Yeah. Anyways, I'm an angel. I guess. And I'm here to show you how everyone you ever knew's-or cared about-life after you die in this car crash. I mean, let's be honest. This is pretty reckless of you. You already knew you had to strain your eyes to see the road after crying so much; and then you _knew_ that the lights of this car aren't working. And yet you got in the car and drove away." Matthieu explained.

"You don't seem like an angel." Matthew responded.

"And _you_ don't seem like a person worth saving." Mattheiu spat. Noticing Matthew wincing at his comment, he shrugged and decided to try and soften it. "But, you obviously are, because I wouldn't be here otherwise."

Matthew nodded and gazed at Matthieu, waiting to receive more information about what the hell was happening.

"Okay. So I'm an angel. I stopped this car crash, or to be more specific, paused it. You'll have a choice at the end of all this if you want to resume being squeezed in a crash or start off at your last checkpoint." Matthieu explained.

"Checkpoint? I'm confused." Matthew furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"I can't explain _too_ much to you," Matthieu took a deep breath, "or I'll be in some serious shit. The chief-you'll learn who that is eventually-hates when people like you, can't explain what I'm referring to there either, learn too much."

"When I said you don't seem like an angel, I mean you act really...grumpy." Matthew said.

"I know." Matthieu replied. "The general-this guy's rank is even higher than the Chief's. He is the leader of all leaders who lead, you know? He's big shit. Anyways, the general made a doppelganger of you, who's an angel, but is extremely grumpy. Basically, I'm the opposite of you, just an angel. He left it up to the Chief to name me, but she sucks at making names."

"Oh." Matthew whispered. He didn't really have a response to that. So he started a new topic. "So whose post-my-death life are you going to show me first?"

"Let's start with Francis and Michelle." Matthieu stated, straightening his back and preparing for a take-off of some sort. The angel grabbed Matthew's hand and began muttering a long sentence to himself. "Dear Chief, I ask you with your piss-poor attitude and powerful abilities to take me, and this kid you've assigned me to, to Francis and Michelle, _er a uriul er a Matthew mengoit a telil_."

Abruptly afterwards Matthieu recited that as if he'd practiced it a million times, a golden light peered out of the palm of Matthieu's hand. The light shone brighter and brighter until it made the whole car blinding. Matthew closed his eyes, he didn't want his eyes to burn out. After the light had died down and Mattheiu elbowed him to tell him he could open his eyes now.

In contrast to the previously bright car, the room Matthew and Matthieu had suddenly appeared in was blandly gray, and smelled strongly of burnt weed. Matthew's eyes widened at the scent.

He knew all too quickly what Francis and Michelle had turned to for solace after his death.

* * *

***A/N: Okay, Matthieu is 2p! Canada. I hope you guys liked this chapter! As always, my lovely chainsaws, thanks for reading and please review!**


	15. Chapter 15

"Hand me another." Michelle stated, her eyes half-closed as if she were about to fall asleep right then and there.

"Take it easy!" Francis responded, wrapping his lips around the thin blunt and inhaling deeply. "Relax."

"No time for relaxing!" Michelle's voice was tired and sluggish. She reached over Francis and grabbed a lighter and a joint. She quickly lit the paper, shoving one of her red-ribbon tied pigtails behind her shoulder. She breathed in as much as she could, holding it in for as long as she could muster, and finally exhaled. She desperately tried to make smoke rings, but gave up after a few attempts.

Matthew's eyes widened.

"Yup." Matthieu said, his voice surprisingly empathetic. "This is what they turned to for comfort after you died."

"No." Matthew's voice was shaky, his whole body tremulous and his knees about to give out. "It can't be because of me."

There was a brief pause of silence to let Matthew try to regain control of his shivering being. "I'm sorry." Matthieu whispered.

Francis' eyes were bloodshot and red, his eyelids a slight purple, bruised color. Michelle glanced up at him, then took another breath of her joint. They were both high as the empire state building, to put it in such a way that refers to a wonderful song by Fun. But being high didn't soften the pain at all. Matthew was dead. They couldn't bring him back. He'd forever be the teenager who never made it to graduation, the voice that could never speak in his wonderfully soft tone again. And they couldn't change that. Not even the musty smoke emitting from their blunts.

"I'm here!" Matthew screamed. His eyes closed in frustration, and the fact that he couldn't bear to see his parents in such a fashion. "Look at me!"

"They can't see you." Matthieu reminded him.

Matthew finally opened his eyes and wiped away a tear that'd fallen astray. "I want to know...I want to know why they ended up like this."

"Are you sure?" Matthieu asked. Matthew nodded with a strong confidence. "Matthew, you were their son. So was Alfred. You were the children they never had, the children they never could have. Back when Michelle lived in Seychelles and she was young and eager to move to America, she wanted a child. A kid to call her own. She wanted to give birth to a child in America, one who wouldn't have to grow up in the small nation she had. So she and her boyfriend-who at the time, was not Francis-moved to America and tried numerous times to impregnate her. All their attempts failed. Wondering why she couldn't have a child, she scheduled an appointment with a doctor at a local hospital.

His news was horrible and heart breaking. Michelle was medically unable to bear a child. Around that same time, a few states over, Francis was a rolling stone. He made love to women and men of all kinds, left and right, drinking until he was too drunk to even know he was drunk. After a while, he tired of this life. A life of nothing but sex and alcohol. It was repetitive and boring after a while, of course. Then one day, he saw something life-changing. Something that gave him an epiphany. He saw a little boy and his father walking down the street.

It was in that moment that he decided he wanted to have a kid." Matthieu took a deep breath before continuing. "So he adopted one immediately. And that little 14 year old boy he adopted was Alfred. Michelle and her boyfriend suffered numerous troubles in their relationship, which caused them to break up. Then Francis and Michelle met, two people who desperately wanted kids. And Michelle's nephew's parents had disappeared, so she took him in a few years prior to meeting Francis. I'm sure you know the rest of the story."

Matthew nodded. He knew exactly what happened. But he still felt like he was missing a big chunk of the story. "Why were they so sad? Like, I know I was the 'child they couldn't have' but, why?"

"Exactly that. It was like losing your child, which they really did, and knowing that your other kid has been affected by it. And it reminded Michelle of how much she wanted a kid, and that one day, they'd die. So it struck her that one day Alfred would pass too. And she can't bear to think about that." Matthieu explained.

"So she turned to drugs to numb the pain." Matthew mumbled.

* * *

"The angel is there." A young woman with bangs held back by a headband said. Just a few moments ago she'd alerted the surveillance man that they needed an angel, stat.

"I see." An equally young woman with long black hair with a few golden highlights in the front pulled into a ponytail answered. She rested her laptop on her lap, typing away something that must've been important. "How far have they come along?"

"They're in Phase 2, talking to the first of those they'll be visiting. Francis and Michelle." The woman with a headband replied.

The woman typing on her laptop with such a fast and accurate rate that'd put Steve Jobs to shame nodded and clicked something on her screen.

* * *

"I can't watch this." Matthew whispered. He was now sitting crisscross on the floor, trying to ignore the smoke fuming from Francis and Michelle's joints.

"Are you ready to leave?" Matthieu asked. He was trying to subtly rush the boy onto the next phase of his assignment.

"Yes. Positively, absolutely ready to go." Matthew answered, climbing onto his feet. Matthieu grabbed his hand and began to mutter a few words to himself once again.

"Get us the fuck out of here, Chief." And with that, the two were surrounded by bright light, completely consumed by its glow. After a few moments, the light died down, and they were in a new setting. Matthew's eyes widened as he identified the familiar room. He'd seen it a few times before, and it was unmistakably _his_. But the colors of said room were dreary and tiring and oh so dark, Matthew could hardly call it the Gilbert's anymore. Everything was just depressing.

"Life sucks." The German muttered, his back pressed against his couch. He spoke to no one in particular. His voice was too different, too exhausted and weary. Matthew was scared by how on-the-edge it sounded. Gilbert balled his hands into fists, his knuckles turning white. He kicked the heel of his right foot against the couch. His voice and his actions told all, and Matthew was afraid of what he heard.

"I just can't deal with it anymore!" Gilbert screamed. He stood up, dashing into some room and coming back holding a blank piece of paper and a pen. He scribbled something down with tears streaming down his face.

Matthieu sighed with disappointment. He'd seen lives like Gilbert's before. Depressed and, unbearably and unmistakably, suicidal.

* * *

***A/N: **This story is about to get serious.** _Please, read this note as a warning. If any of you are suicidal and are on the edge of being triggered-if I'm using that term properly-contact the national suicide hotline and get help and please avoid the next chapter._ **As always, thanks for reading and please review.


	16. Chapter 16

_***SUICIDE TRIGGER** **WARNING***_

The ink of his pen bled deep into the page, some puddles of ink about to run. Like the tears on his face, the page was messily written. He was muttering some words to himself, sentences and even a few questions that I couldn't understand. The only thing I could comprehend was the word "Why?" which he repeated frequently throughout his various 'mantras.' He sounded so different.

He sounded nothing like he used to. He was no longer Gilbert. He'd become something different. He looked like an empty shell of his former self, his body thinned and his fingers bony as he shakily held his pen to the paper. I immediately missed him. It wasn't like we'd known each other since _forever_, but there's something depressing and dark about watching the person who cared about you most scribble down a suicide note.

I tried to ignore the tear racing down my cheek as I watched him sign his name on the bottom edge of the paper. He stood up once again, his dangerously-skinny legs walking back up the stairs and coming back down with some rope. His facial expression wasn't sad nor angry, if not a bit anxious. It seemed as if he just wanted to get everything over with. He wanted it all to end.

And not even in an I-hate-the-world way. He wanted it to end because everything was tiring and insane to him. He didn't hate his life, he just didn't see a point to it. He didn't see a point to any form of life. And I could see it his eyes and hear it in his slow breaths as he tied a loop into the rope. He glanced up at the ceiling. There was nothing besides his fan, and he knew that wouldn't hold his weight.

His eyes widened. I immediately had a sense of what he was getting as soon as he dashed into the kitchen. He fished around one of his cabinets until he came up with a little medicine container. I squinted, trying to read the prescription label. Once I gave up on squinting altogether, I walked over towards him. I was right beside him, my eyes scanning the label and practically popping out of my head as soon as they did.

Anti-Depression Pills.

"Don't do it!" I shouted, despite knowing he couldn't hear me.

He turned around and walked right through me, over to his refrigerator. He reached in and grabbed a bottle of beer. He had a little smirk on his face, and it just looked so out of place with the moment. After all, it _was_ so out of place with the moment.

"I want to go out with some beer." He popped open the cap and took a swig. He sighed, content with the flavor of the beer.

He looked so much like Gilbert right then. He didn't look so much like a hollow shell anymore. His voice was cheery despite the anti-depressants just sitting in his hand. He pressed down and twisted open the cap, pouring a few pills into his hand. I winced as he swallowed the first one, washing it down with the alcohol residing in the palm of his right hand.

"Ah, c'mon, Gil." He said to himself. "You can do better than that."

Immediately after he said those words, he pulled out about 5 more pills and placed them all in his mouth. There was a little tear forming in the corner of his eye, but he refused to let it fall. He grabbed his bottle of beer and poured some of the liquid into his mouth and swallowed. He took a few deep breaths before grabbing even more of the anti-depressants and downing them. He continued the process, drowning his mouth with more and more beer after each round of pills. The amount of pills increased each time, and I flinched each time.

Eventually, he reached his breaking point.

He let out a loud burp that was followed by some vomit falling onto his tile kitchen floor. Droplets of sweat began to form on his forehead as he continued to belch and throw up his lunch all over the kitchen. Eventually the vomiting stopped, and he was reduced to dizzily waltzing around the room. After a few moments he looked to still be a bit dizzy, but not as much. His eyes widened as his whole body began to shake. He brought a hand up to his chest, his palm pressed flat against the left side of his upper chest where his heart would've been.

Matthieu must've been working his little angel magic, because I could hear his heart beating the whole time. It slowly rose and pounded faster and faster until I was sure the whole neighborhood could hear his heart thumping in his chest.

And with his being still shaking and his heart beating like a drum, a mischievous grin somehow found its way to his face.

"See you, bir-. Bro. See you, bro." He said, his smirk not fading in the least until he fell against the floor and his muscles relaxed.

I knew his last words were directed at me. And that hurt. A lot. He was thinking about me, a me who was selfish and reckless enough to get himself killed in a car accident, while he died. Never did I expect Gilbert to commit suicide. And never did I expect to watch it all unfold before my eyes. He was dying, and it hurt more than anything to not be able to stop him.

Because it was fate.

Cruel, cruel fate being the connecting flight it always is. Fate was what brought me to Roderich. I was what used him to make a point. Fate was what gave Gilbert the pills. Gilbert took them and overdosed.

I didn't realize it all until then. We can't blame fate for everything that happens. It isn't simply fate that Francis and Michelle turned to drugs. It provided them with the drugs, and they snatched them up and used it. Fate is a bitch, but it's no more of a factor in our lives than we ourselves. We underestimate the power of our minds and decisions all too much.

"He..." I trailed off. I was unable to finish my sentence. Because right there, before my eyes, was a dead and lifeless Gilbert.

Something I'd never thought I would see.

* * *

***A/N: Listen, if any of you are suicidal, contact the national suicide hotline NOW. Or talk to me, or anyone! Don't end up like Gilbert! There is a point to life, and in the words of Ellen DeGeneres(I think): "People will change. And you should be alive to see it." As always, thanks for reading and please review!**


	17. Chapter 17

"Get me out!" Matthew yelled, his pale face flushing red with anger.

Matthieu only nodded. A verbal response wasn't necessary. Matthew was in that _mood_-that _shade_ of anger where every little noise and movement just bothers you. Matthieu muttered a few sentences to himself, his soft statements only quiet because Matthew was pissed. Once he finished the very last syllable of the very last word of his very last sentence directed to the Chief, bright light began to emerge from the palms of his hands. He closed his eyes as the light enveloped the two of them, and he only opened them once he was sure they landed safely in the blank white room of the mental hospital.

Matthew's eyes widened as he recognized the dangerously small man sitting in the corner of the room. His arms had grown skinny and his legs were practically twigs. There were deep bags under his eyes and his hair was tangled and knotted. If it weren't for the small mole sitting on one of his cheeks, Matthew wouldn't have identified the man.

"Roderich?" Matthew asked.

Roderich's head was pressed against the wall, his ears intent on hearing something. His eyes were squinted, as if he were about to fall asleep right then and there. However, his hands were balled into fists and his toes were curled. He was dead set on staying awake. When he realized that he wasn't going to hear anything anytime soon, he began to stand up. He walked over to the door and banged his small fists on it. He paused after knocking a few times, taking a few steps back.

A man in a white coat opened the door. "Yes?"

Roderich lunged at the man, kicking and punching him as hard as he possibly could. Once the man-who Matthew assumed was a doctor-was down on the ground, he dashed out the door. Matthew could hear some scuffling of feet down the hall, nearing the door. His eyes almost popped out of his skull when he heard a blood-curdling scream; a scream that was clearly Roderich's voice.

"Stop!" Roderich shouted. "Let me go! Get your filthy hands off of me! Stop! You fiends!" He shrieked as they sat him back down in the white room Matthew and Matthieu were standing in. There were tears running down Roderich's unhealthily pale cheeks as he kicked his skinny legs against the chests of the doctors and assistants who restrained his arms.

"No!" He screamed. And he screamed and shouted and tried to twist out of the grips of all the doctors and their assistants who were holding his limbs back down against the bed. Without warning, they plunged a needle into his arm. He shouted once again, and he screamed a bit more until the fluid finally settled into his bloodstream. His eyes closed and he laid there, unconscious, his right arm and leg hanging off the edge of his bed. The doctors muttered a few words and ordered their assistants to write something down on Roderich's record as they exited the room.

"I think now would be a good time to explain the situation, huh?" Matthieu asked as he leaned back against one of the white walls of the room.

Matthew nodded. Matthieu took a deep breath before he began to speak again.

"Roderich has PPD. Paranoid Personality Disorder. Not to be confused with Paranoid Schizophrenia. Roderich isn't Schizophrenic at all. He's just extremely paranoid. Enough so that he's here, in a local mental hospital. He never eats the food the nurses try to serve him, because he's sure that it's all poisoned. That scene you saw just now-you know, with the doctors injecting him with sleep medicine-is the 52nd one that's happened." Matthieu paused and walked over to Roderich.

"He's tried to break out just like he just did 52 times. His doctors are desperately trying to find a medicine that works on his case. His therapist is losing hope. No one, absolutely no one so far, has been able to break him out of this paranoia. And you want to know why he suffers like this?" Matthieu asked.

Matthew shook his head. "I really don't, but part of your job is to tell me anyway and make me hate myself because of it."

"You're not supposed to hate yourself because of it." Matthieu retorted. "It's supposed to...never mind. Anyways, it all started with Gilbert. Gilbert breaks up with him, he's eternally wounded because he really loved that guy. Right? Then next, you come along and use him. I'm not trying to make you hate yourself, but c'mon dude, that was a real douchebag move.

Eventually he began to develop paranoia. You died, and he has no one to provide solace for him. So he begins to question if his family loves him or not, and he begins to question if he has anything worth loving. He had an on-and-off sort of depression, but it was nothing serious. He began to, somehow, think that everyone hated him. He thought everyone was out to get him. His friend who he really didn't think of as a friend back then-because of his Paranoia-, Elizaveta, brought him to a doctor after noticing that he was acting truly different. I'm pretty sure she knocked him out to get him there, though. When he was conscious, the doctor diagnosed him with PPD."

"Oh." Matthew was speechless. He'd indirectly landed Roderich in a mental hospital. Well, really, he directly did. But he wasn't the first to contribute to his paranoia. Even so, it's a horrible thing he did. Although Matthew truly did regret using Roderich, he regretted even more after seeing what happens to him after he dies.

"Hopeless!" He heard a man say as he opened the door. It was obviously the last word of his sentence that Matthew didn't get to hear(the room must've been soundproof as well). The man was also dressed in a white coat-a doctor-and was currently making his way toward Roderich. His assistant followed behind him.

"How long was the psychotic episode?" The nurse asked, her hand ready to write down the doctor's response in her notepad.

"Long, in terms of his average time. I'd say he was out of touch for about an hour." The doctor answered. The nurse scribbled down his exact words. "We need to get him food. When was the last time he's eaten?"

"A few days ago." The nurse replied. "It's almost impossible. He'll only eat if he finds the food himself. So we have to let him loose, but block the exits. It's chaotic, though. The other patients get frightened, and he does, too."

"Let him out once he wakes up. Leave the door open and unlocked." The doctor ordered. He stared at Roderich for a few more moments before leaving the room. The nurse made sure the door was unlocked and cracked open before she left.

Matthieu glanced at Matthew. He was disturbed and clearly scared that Roderich had fell into such a state. "Shall we?"

"I can't bear to see more." Matthew cried. "Get me out. I've seen my parents turn to drugs for solace, Gilbert commit suicide, and now I've seen one of Roderich's numerous psychotic episodes of paranoia. I want out."

"I'm sorry. But there's more to see. Chief, take us to see _him_." Matthieu said.

Light began to emerge from his palms once again.

* * *

***A/N: Some of this information may be inaccurate. I did research, so hopefully it's not. As always, my lovely chainsaw, thanks for reading and please review!**


	18. Chapter 18

And so, after beams of light bursts out of the palm of Matthieu's hand, Matthew stood in the middle of a familiar room. Same colors, not a shade different than they used to be. Pictures of footballs still littered the walls along with a signature jacket sitting on a hanger tacked to the wall. The bed was still messy and trash still covered the floor. The closet was still a mess and the desk only held up a can of soda. The room still smelled like burgers and gym class; the whole room still screamed "Alfred."

"Nothing seems different." Matthew said, breathing out a sigh of relief. Matthieu only shrugged in response, nodding towards the door when the familiar American walked into the room.

Silently, Alfred strolled into the room sluggishly, like he was deprived of sleep. He made little whimpers as he sat down, biting his bottom lip as he tried not to cry. He muttered a few words to himself like "Get yourself together" while he blinked away tears he refused to let fall. He grabbed the can of soda and popped open a case of pills, snatching up only one and downing it with his soda. He sighed and settled down, leaning against the wall as he waited for the pill to disperse into his body.

"What are those?" Matthew asked confusedly.

"Anti-depressants." Matthieu responded. "He's not suicidal, nor does he have PPD or a drug addiction. He's just depressed."

Alfred shivered, or maybe it was the result of him trying to hold in his sobs, and reluctantly let a tear drop slip away from the corner of his eyes. Infuriated with himself, Alfred immediately raised his hand up to his face to wipe away the stray tear. He cleared his throat, desperately trying to swallow the lump inside of it. After a bit more struggling, Alfred threw his hands up in frustration and stomped his right foot on the floor.

"Why?" Alfred murmured. "Where did you go, Matthew? And why did you leave, too, Gilbert?" He rolled over on his back and a self-pitying smile spread across his face. "Why did you guys leave me all alone? I thought," he sniffled, "you knew me better than to leave me here like this. Dad and Mom gave up. Gil gave up. And I think I'm starting to give up."

"He's not going to-" Matthew was interrupted by Matthieu.

"No. Fortunately, he's not going to kill himself."

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." Alfred muttered. "You gave up, Mattie. I don't give a fuck if...Car accident my ass! You gave up on me, and on Dad, and on Mom, and on Gil! And _they_ were stupid, stupid, stupid enough to give up on everything too! And now it's just me, and stupid fucking school, and what the fuck am I doing? I'm sitting here being sad and depressed, but oh yeah, that's right, I can't help it!

_You_ did this! _You _and _Gilbert_ gave up and now I'm falling apart!" Alfred cried, balling his hands into fists.

"Story time." Matthew sadly said, leaning back against the wall and looking at Matthieu.

"I guess it is." Matthieu answered. "This is what happens the day after Gilbert commit suicide. Alfred comes home, doesn't need to greet his parents because they're too hopped up on whatever it is they're smoking to notice him, and just walks up the stairs to his room. Slower than usual. He loses hope the moment he closes his bedroom door behind him, because he knows the only thing that can help him in this room are those anti-depression pills, but he sure as hell wouldn't overdose on them. He's giving up, but he's never going to commit suicide. Because one day, when his parents are sober and he's long gone, they'll give up, too.

They'll give up just like Gilbert did and end it for themselves. And Alfred can't handle the thought of that. So he takes only one pill and sits there, crying and sobbing and hoping that this is all just one big nightmare. But he knows when he wakes up again, the reality will be so harsh and heavy on his shoulders, and he has to carry it all because he can't let anyone else die."

"But it's worse." Matthew replied after a moment. "It's worse _because_ he has to carry that harsh and heavy reality up on his shoulders. It'd be so easy to just end it, and not because no one cares, but it would just be so easy..." He paused before continuing. "Reminds me of a book I read. Looking For Alaska. How can we ever get out of this labyrinth of suffering?" He quoted.

Matthew began to realize it all. Gilbert hadn't killed himself because he was torn with Matthew dead. It just seemed like such an easy thing to do when you're on the edge. In fact, it was so easy that it was _hard_ to keep on living. And Matthew finally understood what John Green was trying to convey from Alaska's point of view when she-spoiler alert-died. Rammed into that police car. It just seemed so easy, just to die like that. To just end it all.

To get out of this labyrinth of suffering, when you're in such a state as Alfred, Matthew, and Gilbert were in, killing yourself just seems so fast and easy. And it was just so hard for Alfred to keep living.

And as soon as Matthew finally processed it all, right when he comprehended everything down to its core, he realized why Matthieu or the Chief or the General or whoever had picked him had let him onto this journey. Not to make him hate himself and feel bad for everything he's done.

No, that wasn't the point at all.

They wanted him to see how easy it was just to get out of said labyrinth so quick and simply. They wanted him to see _why_ Gilbert killed himself, _why_ it was just so easy to turn to drugs, _why_ Roderich had such serious trust issues because it's so hard not to have them after all the man's been through, and _why_ Alfred could still carry on. And after seeing all that and understanding the pure _why_'s, they wanted to see how much he learned.

If he really was the wrong person to send on this journey, he'd turn the other cheek and say "No! I can't bear to see this! Let me die!"

But he wasn't.

"Matthieu." Matthew said.

"Yeah?" Matthieu asked, shifting his weight onto his right foot.

"I understand now. I understand why they did it all. And I understand that it was just so easy to that, and I have to accept that. It doesn't make what they did right, but I understand that it's just so easy to do that. And it'd be just as easy to tell you I want to end this suffering and rest in peace. But I can't. Not after seeing that, after relieving myself of my own issues, these wonderful people would have to suffer more than I did. And Alfred, he'd never be able to rest in peace like this. He's just so strong, stronger than I am. And I want him to know that I'm just as much of a douchebag as he is, and that we shouldn't fight because we're equally douchey and we'll get nowhere.

I want Gilbert to know I love him. I want my parents to know that I'm in love with Gilbert, and they'll just have to accept that. I want Roderich to know that, no, I'm not in love with him, but he's awesome. There's so much that I want, Matthieu, and the easy way out can just give me it. It can also give me what I need.

But this time, I can't focus on what _I_ need. I have to concern myself with what _they _need, just as they concerned themselves with me after I died." Matthew said.

"You finally got it, kid." Matthieu grinned. "So what's the moral of the story?"

"Didn't I just say it?" Matthew furrowed his eyebrows.

"Paraphrase it." Matthieu rephrased his question with a smirk dancing on the corners of his mouth.

Matthew smiled, knowing immediately what he wanted him to say. He chuckled at the cheesiness of it and cleared his throat dramatically.

"It's a wonderful life."

And with those words, light once again erupted from Matthieu's hand and enveloped them both. Before Matthew even knew the whole thing was over, he heard his alarm clock ring in his ears. He blinked open his eyes and checked the date on his phone.

It was the day he met Roderich.

* * *

***A/N: Some time travel stuff going on here. :P As always, my lovely chainsaws, thanks for reading and please review!**


	19. Chapter 19

***A/N: This chapter is written (kinda-sorta) like a play. Only the dialogue, really. Don't worry, this is the only chapter I'll do that. Thanks for reading and please review, my lovely chainsaws!**

* * *

_ACT I ENDS_

* * *

_ACT II BEGINS_

* * *

Matthew wakes up. He is disoriented-after all, he was just in a post-his-death future-and checks the date on his phone. It is the day he meets Roderich. His face suddenly lights up with joy and he scrambles out of bed. He dashes down the stairs and into the kitchen. Michelle is flipping a pancake when he enters the room.

Michelle: Good morning, Matthew! Do you want a pancake?

Matthew: Sure. (He smiles at Michelle and grabs a fork and a butter knife from the silverware drawer. He walks over to the cabinet and pulls out a plate and a bottle of maple syrup from the pantry. He sets the items down on his placemat, only leaving the red plate in his hands.)

Michelle: Here you go. (She uses her spatula to set a pancake down on Matthew's plate.) Eat it while it's hot!

Matthew: I know, Mom.

He promptly sits down at his seat and wolfs down the pancake. Being dead must've taken a toll on his stomach. Well, technically he wasn't dead, but he didn't eat a damn thing through the little journey. Matthew doesn't care that the pancake was made out of cheap pancake mix that he can tell is from the local grocery store. It still tastes delicious to him. He wipes his mouth on a napkin and throws it away after he finishes his breakfast. He washes his plate and utensils.

Matthew: (cheerfully) Thanks!

As Matthew runs back up the stairs, filled with renewed energy, he bumps into Alfred. The American shoots him a glare, but Matthew only smiles at him in return. Alfred is confused by the friendly grin.

Alfred: (frustrated) What the hell was that?

Matthew: A smile.

Alfred: I know that much. (brief pause) I mean, why did you smile?

Matthew: A silent good morning.

Matthew doesn't wait for a response and continues his way up the stairs. He enters his room and closes the door behind him. He makes his bed and opens his drapes like he normally does each morning. It feels good to go back to a steady routine. He feels safe within the comfort of his own bedroom. There are no more deaths to see or his own to experience today. No drugs to smell or induced sleeps to witness. Today is going to be normal and safe, and Matthew will be grateful for that.

Never had he loved routines so much in his life.

He realizes that today is the day he is supposed to meet Roderich. Alfred is going to take the car and go to Gilbert's house, and Matthew is going to get out of the house and go to the coffee shop. Exactly like it was before. So Matthew picks out the same outfit(a solid white T-shirt with a red maple leaf in the middle and some pair of old ripped-in-awkward-places jeans). He grabs his thin comb and untangles his nappy hair. He always had a bad case of bedhead. Promptly afterwards he makes his way downstairs, glancing out the window and noting that Alfred already drove away with the family car, and pulls on his shoes in front of the front door.

Francis: (slowly) Don't think, feel... It's like some finger looking up to the moon. Don't look at the finger or you'll miss all the angelic brilliance! But I'm too in pain to feel a damned thing!

Matthew rolls his eyes, but smiles at the statement nonetheless. He'd rather live through Francis' hangover quotes and Michelle's shouts a million times over rather than see what happens to them after he dies. He ties his shoelaces and steps out the door. Once again he meets the small boy singing "I'll Make A Man Out Of You" in Chinese. And once again he watches the small children scurrying all over the streets to get to the park. After a few moments of walking, 'Crazylicious Coffee' comes into his view. Matthew grins as he walks inside.

It's still packed. There's still one empty chair next to Roderich.

Cashier: (cheerfully) Hello! Welcome to Crazylicious Coffee! We're a bit packed right now, so I don't think there's a seat availa-

Matthew still smiles at Roderich's interjection.

Roderich: Excuse me! There's an empty seat right here! (motions to the seat besides him)

Matthew doesn't wait for the cashier's response and makes his way to the chair. He smiles at Roderich and the conversation they had originally ensues once again. The exact same way it was before. Matthew realizes that he can steer the conversation in any way he wants, and if that somehow alters the future, so be it. So he decides to press just a bit more on the subject of Gilbert. Roderich suddenly holds a fond and soft gaze in his eyes as he speaks.

Roderich: (quietly) He broke my heart. But that was a long time ago. Sometimes you miss the memories and not the person. But this time, I think I miss both. I want more memories to create with him. I don't want to stop being with him. Not dating-wise, but friendship as well. We haven't talked since then. And that's what I miss.

Matthew: You just want to talk to him? Why don't you?

Roderich: (pauses, then answers in the same quiet voice) The stronger a bond between two people, the harder it is to reform it once it's severed. I think it'll never go back to the way it was. I just want to see him again. I want to know what he's up to nowadays. I want to befriend him again.

Matthew looks up at Roderich with a puzzled look on his face.

Roderich: You're young. You still have time to go about not philosophizing everything that's ever happened to you.

Matthew: I've already passed that phase of my life.

Roderich: (confused) What phase?

Matthew: The phase of philosophizing that's ever happened to me. And I came to a conclusion.

Roderich: (smiling) And that conclusion is?

Matthew: (with confidence) It's a wonderful life. And you can't just focus on what _you_ want. You have to focus on what other people want sometimes, and in this case, you have to focus on what the hell Gilbert is thinking. Maybe he wants to talk too. But you'll never know if you don't try.

Roderich: Then I guess I'll have to start trying immediately. (He drinks the remnants of his coffee and throws the paper cup away. Matthew follows suit. They exit the shop.)


	20. Chapter 20

We never did say goodbye that day. Roderich walked me to my house. We were in no rush at all, so we walked at such a slow pace I'm sure it must've taken us about an hour to get to my house. And each time I looked up and saw the long and empty sidewalk before us, I glanced back at him, and I once again remembered how sacred life is. I still couldn't get over the fact that someone-the General-had decided I was important enough that my life should be prolonged. One of the people taken away from me is strolling right alongside me, and I mentally thanked the General for considering me worthy enough to live longer.

"We're almost there." I said, nodding towards my house with my head. Roderich just nodded and continued the conversation.

"I should've brought my Panic! at The Disco CDs." Roderich muttered.

"You have all their CDs?" I asked, trying to walk even slower to elongate our stroll.

"Yes." Roderich answered quickly and enthusiastically.

"Lucky. I can never find _Pretty. Odd._ anywhere!" I exclaimed, laughing.

Roderich chuckled a bit himself before speaking. "I found mine at that bookstore in the mall." He smiled. "Anyways, I have all the songs on my iPod. Want to listen?"

"Sure." I grinned. He pulled out some ear buds from his jacket pocket and handed one of them to me. I pressed it into my ear and he hit the play button. The intro to Hurricane burst into my ear. He put the other ear bud into his own ear and listened. We walked in silence for a while, only letting the sound of Brendon Urie's voice surround us.

_"Fix me, or conflict me, I'll take anything!"_ He suddenly began to sing. He elbowed my shoulder, and I immediately knew what he was asking.

"Sorry." I laughed. "I don't sing."

"C'mon!" He elbowed my shoulder yet again. "I know you want to!"

I sighed and took a deep breath. It was a little later on in the song, so I joined in at the chorus.

_"Hey, hey! We are a hurricane!"_

* * *

Finally, we arrived at my house. The sun was still shining brightly in the sky. Alfred already brought the car home. I told Roderich to wait outside while went in and grabbed the keys. I quickly unlocked the door and snatched the keys from the thumbtack they were hanging from. I promptly locked and quietly shut the front door. I smiled at Roderich and hit the unlock button on the key and climbed into the driver's seat. Roderich sat down in the passenger's seat. I started the car and pulled out of the driveway, and suddenly we were off. There was no particular destination we had envisioned, so we just drove around the neighborhood.

"Wait." Roderich said about 15 minutes into the pointless drive. I raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Take me to Gilbert's house." Roderich paused, clearing his throat. "Please."

I immediately made a left turn and began to drive over to Gilbert's house. It was quite a long time before we arrived there. It'd been a while since I'd been to Gilbert's house-or, at least seen the way to his house. It took me a bit of time and forcing my mind to remember buildings that I'd only seen about once or twice, and those sightings were only from the times we'd driven over to Gilbert's place. Once I made a lucky guess and turned onto a neighborhood that looked only a bit familiar, Gilbert's house came into view. Roderich's face lit up with a smile.

I pulled up into his driveway and parked my car. We walked over to the front door and knocked on it. It took a few knocks and one doorbell ring before Gilbert finally opened the door.

"Yo! Mattie!" His smile grew wider as he spoke. "And Roderich! Come on in, guys!"

Roderich politely smiled back and stepped inside. I followed suit, wiping my feet on the ratty, old welcome mat before the door. Gilbert was dancing around his living room, telling Roderich all about the delicious beer he'd stumbled upon at the local market. Roderich nodded at the appropriate times, not really caring about what the hell Gilbert was talking about. It moved from beer to something about how awesome and badass Dean Winchester from Supernatural is.

"Of course," Gilbert laughed, "he's not as awesome as this great man you see here." He motioned towards himself.

"What great man?" Roderich chuckled. "All I see is a dorky albino."

"Well, damn." Gilbert grinned and poked Roderich on the forehead. "C'mon, you _have_ to try this beer."

About an hour later, Roderich and Gilbert were still chatting. They were so intent on running their mouth that they seemed to forget I was there. I smiled and took my leave, despite being a bit upset. It was normal for people to forget my face, my name, and my presence. But not Gilbert. He always remembered that I was there and took the time to remind me of that. That I was there, and that he cared about my existence. In fact, he was grateful for it.

But I saw him forget me while he talked with Roderich. I knew he forgot all about me. I was nothing. The same zero value I was to everyone else. I drove home and stormed upstairs to my bedroom. Why the hell was I so sad? He was talking with Roderich, and they were getting along pretty well, so why couldn't I just be happy for them?

Was it-no, it couldn't be. I'd never felt such a feeling, such a strong possession over anything. But I missed being the center of Gilbert's attention, even if I wasn't in it for just an hour. He always thought about me. He's supposed to. Because he loves me.

And suddenly, I knew exactly what the feeling was. And I hated myself for feeling such an emotion. The things I'd seen it make people do, like how Alfred always messed with me because Gilbert favored me more. It's a horrible feeling, and I shouldn't be feeling it.

It just had to be...

Jealousy. Envy. Greed. All at the same time. I didn't want Gilbert loving anyone besides me. I wanted his love and his care for me, and only me.

* * *

***A/N: As always, thanks for reading and please review! You, my lovely chainsaws, are awesome!**


	21. Chapter 21

Broken. That's how I felt. I wasn't special, and no one was there to tell me otherwise. For days upon weeks after the first incident(in which Gilbert had forgotten all about me), Roderich and Gilbert began spending more and more time together. It was hard not to believe that there was some little romance being kindled between them. Where was Gilbert to call me and be that casual flirt he always with me?

Well, the casual flirt he was _only_ around me.

Alfred and I's relationship grew better, and before I could even acknowledge it, it was like we were best friends. Almost every second of the day I spent with him, aside from the ones I spent tagging along with Roderich and Gilbert only to be treated like a third wheel. It was about a month later that I finally lost it. But I like to say I wasn't the blame for breaking into tears.

Indirectly, it was Francis' fault.

And also indirectly, The Supremes'.

Francis was listening to some music on him and Michelle's laptop when I walked into the living room. It was an undeniably "non-modern" record that _had_ to have come out in the 60's or 70's. I recognized the song almost immediately upon hearing it. _"Stop! In the name of love! Before you break my heart..."_

"Oh! Matthew!" Francis smiled and patted a patch of the couch besides him, beckoning me to sit down. "I was just listening to The Supremes. You know this song, right?"

"Yeah." I nodded, taking a seat besides him. I didn't have anything better to do. "Stop in the name of love."

Francis nodded his head wildly. He bobbed his head to the song before glancing at the related videos on the side. One of them read: "Bluesville High School- With Love, From Motown."

"Ooh!" Francis exclaimed, laughing a bit. "This one choir performed that song when I was in High School. It's a medley of 3 Supremes' songs. Stop! In The Name of Love, Baby Love, and Where Did Our Love Go?"

I just smiled at him. Francis clicked on the video and it promptly began to buffer. Finally, the hated process was complete, and Francis clicked 'Play.' The choir director motioned for the instrumental to play. A few measures into the song, the choir began to sing. The song began with "Stop! In The Name of Love" before switching to "Baby Love." Then, to "Where Did Our Love Go?" And by that time I was already paying attention to the lyrics.

_"Baby, baby. Baby, don't leave me!" "Ooh, please don't leave me...All by myself..." "Baby, baby. Where did our love go?" "Ooh, don't you want me? Don't you want me no more?"_

No. Gilbert must've not wanted me anymore. After hearing what he did to Roderich, what made me think I'd be special? What made me think I was "the one" for him? I wasn't special. I was just another little crush. And I was childish to think it was anything more than that. He'll move on to better people, settle down and maybe even get married. Maybe have/adopt a kid. I'm not any different than the rest.

But I wanted to be. I wanted him to want me, and only me. I dreamed every night of him smiling and laughing with me about all the small things. I wished that one day he'd just show up at my front door with a rose. And as much as I hated clichés like those, I desperately wanted to be a reality.

But dreams are just dreams. Wishes are only wishes, and nothing more. Clichés will forever be clichés, cheesy and oozing sappy romantic antics.

I stood up and told Francis I needed to call a friend to talk about a project we need to finish, or something similar to that. He didn't suspect anything, after all, I really wasn't going to do anything wrong. It was just an excuse to get away from the song. Although I liked it quite a lot, the lyrics depressed me the more I thought about them and applied it to my relationship with Gilbert.

I closed my bedroom door and collapsed onto my bed. I stretched my arm out to grab my phone off of the bedside table. I unlocked it and quickly went to my messages. No new texts or calls. As per the norm. I clicked a button and began to compose a new message, one I wasn't intending to actually send. It was one of those techniques I saw off TV. To write out your feelings to someone and then keep it. Or throw it away. It was just a form of relieving stress, and I decided to try it. I selected Gilbert as the recipient and began to type.

It took me a few moments before I actually thought of a way to describe my feelings.

"I'm sorry, I guess. I don't even know why I'm apologizing. I guess I just feel a bit guilty for not being someone you wanted to stay with. I'm sorry for not being Roderich. I hope he treats you good. And I hope you do this same. I never went out and said this, but, I love you. I love you so fucking much. I wish I'd said it earlier, because you'd probably be mine if I did. Roderich snatched you up before I could. But that's ok. That must be how the universe wants it to be.

I hope he spends every second with you, if it makes you happy. I hope you guys go on to go to places I would've taken you, had I said those 3 special words when I first realized they were true. I just want you to smile. I want you to laugh. Gosh, I love your laugh. I want you to be happy. I want you to feel special and different. I want you to feel loved.

...I want you."

I breathed out a sigh of relief. I felt less stressed and abandoned. The sun seemed to shine just a bit brighter. My perspective moved just a tad bit upwards. Smiling to myself, I closed my eyes and stretched out my limbs. First my toes, small to big, then my hands. Left hand, pinky to thumb. Right hand, pinky to...

Thumb.

Untightening the muscles in my right thumb, I somehow let the limb fall against the screen of the phone.

Hitting the send button.

* * *

***A/N: Aw shit. Well, would you look at that? Accidentally hitting send. On a very personal message. Hm. As always, my lovely chainsaws, thanks for reading and please review!**


	22. Chapter 22

"Shit. Shit. Shit!" I muttered, my eyes widening at the huge mistake I just made. How the hell did I accidentally send that text to Gilbert?

The worst part is that I know he's reading it right now, because he has an iPhone just as I do, and he can send out "Read" messages. Which basically tell you when the receiver has read the message, or at least opened it. Almost immediately after I accidentally sent out the text, the "read" message came in. But oddly enough, there was no ellipse bubble(which tells you when the receiver is replying to the message).

So there I am, conflicted with my mixed emotions. Either Gilbert thought I was just a bit on the possessive side or now thought of me as a joke. Whatever it was, he wasn't answering. Which wasn't a good thing. So I waited about an hour with my face tear-stained and flushed red with embarrassment, doing whatever I could to keep myself occupied. I tried flipping through some pages of Looking For Alaska by John Green, but that only made me more depressed and a bit angry with the characters and John Green himself for putting me through such emotional turmoil. So I picked up Let It Snow(a collaboration with John Green and a few other others) and re-read the first story. I was tearing up just a bit, moreover because I would never experience anything like the main character would(or at least, at the rate I was going).

Love.

Unfortunately, I still hadn't heard back from Gilbert. Had I been a bit more bolder with less pride, I would've texted him again. But of course I just had to keep that shred of dignity I had after that accident, so I just sprawled my body out against my bed, hoping that I'd fall asleep. It took a few moments, but I did fall asleep eventually.

Sadly, I had to cry myself asleep in order to get that rest.

* * *

I woke up about an hour later, and somehow everyone had left the house within that hour. Francis and Michelle were nowhere to be found, and neither was Alfred. They all must've went to some store or maybe even a restaurant and didn't want to wake me up. Which could either mean they didn't want me to tag along or they legitimately didn't want to ruin my not-so-peaceful slumber.

I'm pretty sure it was the latter.

I immediately reached across my bed to check my phone. There was only one missed call, from Gilbert. He left a voicemail, and I promptly clicked the play button. There was a bit of shuffling and moving around in the beginning before Gilbert finally said something.

"10 minutes, Birdie." I heard a car zoom by, followed by a few others and a radio playing faintly in the background. After the 3 worded sentence ended, the voicemail ended. Speaking of said sentence, it caused me to panic. I immediately went back to the recent calls page to check what time he had called me. Just 5 minutes ago(my phone wasn't set to ring aloud when a text or call is received).

So, in 5 minutes, Gilbert may or may not be standing at my front door, either ready to laugh and humiliate me or yell at me.

In exactly 5 minutes, I found the answer to my question. Gilbert just rang on the doorbell, knocking harshly on the door. Suddenly all the fibers of hair on my body perked up, goose bumps popping out on my skin. I felt sweat form on my brow, and I reluctantly answered the door.

The first thing I saw were those ruby red eyes getting closer and closer to my own. Gilbert was nose to nose with me before he even said a word. Quite literally _a word_.

"Clueless." He muttered.

Then all of a sudden his lips are against mine. His lips are soft, and as far as I can tell his lips taste subtly of Coca Cola and what I could hardly recognize as beer if I hadn't known his beverage-cravings. It was a brief kiss, nonetheless passionate. Immediately after I was left spinning, and he just stared at me. He wore a little smile on his face, his eyes suddenly looking a bit brighter.

"It's you, Matthew." My own violet eyes widened just a bit at the use of my whole name. "It's always been you."

And then we're back to kissing, his slender fingers tangling themselves in my hair, and the palms of my hands pressed onto the nape of his neck, pulling me closer. Moments into the kiss, he's adding tongue, and I'm tugging him into the house, shutting the door with my left hand and pushing him against the door. We pause for just a few seconds, catching our now-panting breath and locking eyes with each other.

I could feel his hipbones against mine, my chest flush against his. We're so close and the proximity was killing me. I wanted to be even closer, if it was possible. I traced my right index finger along his arm, pulling it up and feeling the soft, pale skin. I pressed a kiss to the crook of his neck, before pecking his lips for just a quick second.

"It always was me?" I asked, grinning. He laughed, running his hand through my hair.

"No." His smile grew wider and he leaned his face a bit closer to mine, knocking our foreheads together. "It always _is_ you. Why would you ever think otherwise? Roderich and I are just friends. Good friend. But that's the biggest difference between you and Roderich."

"Hm?" I moved my face back just an inch, trying to get a clearer look of Gilbert's face.

"I like Roderich. He's my friend, so of course I like him." He paused and I was beginning to doubt if it really is 'always me.' "But you're different. Because I love you, Matthew."

"I love you, too."

* * *

***A/N: It's coming to an end, my lovely chainsaws. It's not done yet, I still have a few more chapters to go. As always, thanks for reading and please review!**


	23. Chapter 23

Alfred woke up to a sizzling come from downstairs. He heard his own stomach growl and churn, doing nothing but absolutely pining for whatever that heavenly smell was. He practically tore his blanket apart in an attempt to race downstairs. However, along the way, he tripped and fell against the second-to-last stair. His face slamming into the outer edge of the step, Matthew ran out of the kitchen and over to where an exaggeratedly pained Alfred laid diagonally on the staircase.

"Holy shit, Al!" Matthew exclaimed, kneeling down on his right knee to get a better look at his step-brother. "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm fine, bro." Alfred looked up, his blue eyes glaring at Matthew's violet ones. "The staircase just assaulted my fucking face. I think I broke my nose...Oh shit!" He wiggled his fingers. "Maybe my arm, too? My ankles might even be sprained!" He moved his feet from side to side. "Okay, never mind about that last part. But, shit, that hurt."

"C'mon, stop exaggerating." Matthew sighed, lending a hand to help Alfred stand up, which he gratefully took. "See? You're perfectly fine!"

"I don't know, that was a pretty hard fall." Alfred retorted, walking alongside Matthew to the kitchen.

"You're walking perfectly fine!" Matthew laughed, teasingly nudging Alfred with his elbow. Alfred couldn't help chuckling a bit as well.

* * *

Matthew grabbed two plates from the cabinet, along with some forks and a butter knife. He opened the fridge and placed the tub of butter and some apple juice out on the island counter. He poured said juice into two glasses, one red and the other green. He took his spatula in his hand and slid the eggs off the pan easily, thanks to the pan being drowned in butter-flavored Pam. He put one egg on Alfred's plate and the other on his own before placing the bacon on each of their plates as well. He handed Alfred his plate and set his own on his place mat.

"Thanks, dude!" Alfred smiled, stabbing the yolk of his eggs with his fork. He waited for the yolk to pool on top of the rest of the egg whites before he even considered taking a bite. He put a piece of yolk-drenched egg whites on his tongue and shoved a piece of bacon in his mouth as well. He chewed for a few moments and swallowed, relishing in the taste. "It's awesome!"

As if on cue, the toast popped out of the toaster with a loud "Pop!" Alfred's eyes glimmered as he glanced back at the toaster, then to Matthew.

"This is the best fucking breakfast ever!" He exclaimed. Matthew grinned at his brother's enthusiasm and buttered each of their toasts.

"So," Matthew began, reaching the butter knife in the tub of butter, "about Gilbert."

"Seriously?" Alfred asked with a mouthful of bacon, his left eyebrow perched upwards. "We're still talking about him?"

"No." Matthew answered quickly, swabbing the butter onto the crunchy toast. "I mean, not if you don't want to."

"It's fine, talk about him all you want." Alfred waved Matthew's comment off, shoving another piece of egg whites into his mouth. "So what about him?"

"He kind of..." Matthew trailed off, unsure of what to say. He refrained spreading anymore butter onto the piece of toast. "Loves me?" He finished, as if it were a question(and it really wasn't; of course Gilbert loved him).

Alfred paused, staring at Matthew. Nervously, the Canadian hurriedly finished buttering Alfred's toast and set it down on his plate. Moments of Alfred staring and Matthew rushing to spread butter on his toast as if it were the equivalent of the Cony Island Hot Dog Eating Contest-imagine that, a "Bluesville Toast Buttering Contest"-passed by before Alfred bust out laughing. He pointed at Matthew and laughed even harder, wiping a tear from underneath his eye.

"Ha!" He chuckled. "No offense, but Gilbert _liking_ you is..." He stopped his abrupt laughter and stared straight into Matthew's eyes. "Completely plausible."

Matthew just nodded and darted his eyes away from Alfred. "And I kind of love him back." He added. There was yet another minute of silence, allowing Alfred to process the confirmation he'd just received. He glanced back down at his food before answering.

"Yeah. It makes sense." He murmured, his voice low and rough. He slowly bit into a bacon strip and leaned his weight on his right elbow. "It's okay." He swallowed his bite of bacon and turned to Matthew, smiling. "Congratulations. You know, I'm kind of glad that he likes-or should I say loves-you instead of me. It makes me realize that..."

He stood up on his chair, making him _a lot _taller than his brother. He pounded his right fist against his chest, grinning. "I am a strong, independent, blonde man who don't need no man."

Matthew laughed. "True." He took a bite of his own breakfast, enjoying the saltiness of the bacon. Once he swallowed, he looked back up at Alfred, who was still proudly banging on his chest. "And did you seriously just quote an Ed Sheeran tweet? You just changed ginger to blonde and grammy to man."

"Maybe." Alfred replied, sitting back down in his chair and scarfing down the rest of his meal.

* * *

For the rest of that afternoon, Matthew sat in the same spot on his bed by his window, chatting with Gilbert on the phone. They talked about everything-telling Alfred about their relationship, if said relationship was even a boyfriend/boyfriend relationship or just a platonic one, explaining to Gilbert what platonic meant, coming to a conclusion that it was indeed a romantic, and possibly even sexual in the future, relationship. Before Matthew even knew it, it was 8:00 p.m. They'd been on the phone for about 4 hours straight.

"Damn." Gilbert uttered, laughing. "Wait, you said it was 8?"

"Yeah." Matthew answered, smiling.

"Supernatural is on!" Gilbert shouted, his voice coming out a little blurry on Matthew's end. Matthew heard some ruffling and the TV flickering on. Gilbert entered the number for the CW channel, crying out happily when he saw Castiel on screen. "Castiel! My angel!" He shouted.

"_Your_ angel?" Matthew asked, laughing. He could practically hear Gilbert smile, but the German's voice came out completely serious-yet loving.

"You know you're my angel, Birdie." Gilbert replied.

* * *

***A/N: As always, my lovely chainsaws, thanks for reading and please review! Also, if you didn't know, I changed my Tumblr URL quite a while ago. It's now dinochainsawsimpalaisnotonfi re. I know, it's long. **


	24. Chapter 24

I smiled up at Gilbert, taking in his happy expression. I'd been at his house for about an hour now, just chatting with him while we watched reruns of Sherlock and listened to music. He had an amazing collection of Bob Marley CD's along with almost all of the Fall Out Boy CD's as well. He changed the lyrics to some of the songs when he sang along to them.

"_Let's hear it for my America Suiteheart!_" He stared directly at me, grinning. "_I must confess: I'm in love with Mattie~_"

And after listening to the rest of the Believers Never Die album, he promptly switched out the CD with his 2-CD Bob Marley album: Live Forever, which was a collection of recordings from his performance at Stanley Theatre a year before he died. We ran through each of the songs on Disc 1, the last being "No Woman No Cry."

"_No Matthew, no cry." _He kissed my cheek.

"I'm not crying." I muttered, my face turning a bright.

"That's good." He grinned. "I never want to see you cry. I never want to see you sad."

As soon as the 6 minute song finished, he put the second disc into the player. He bobbed his head while Jamming played and almost cried while singing the chorus of Redemption Song. I loved how the songs meant so much to him, how they made him smile immediately upon being played. On track 4 of the CD, the guitar began to strum as the crowd cheered. Gilbert pulled me closer, singing into my ear.

"_Could you be loved?_" He sang. "_And be loved?_"

I nodded, gazing up into his eyes. "Yes. I am loved, by you."

"You are." His grin spread even wider.

* * *

I never wanted to leave Gilbert's house that day. It felt so nice, being in his embrace all day and being flush against his chest while he sang to me. It took all my willpower to leave, knowing that I wouldn't be able to be-physically-in his presence until the next day. I almost wanted to just stay there with him, never going home.

But I loved my family, and I could never just leave them like that.

I stood in the doorway, kissing him once more. I almost walked away, before I realized just how long a night and a morning could be without him there with me. And if I really wanted, he could be spending those hours with me. I turned around and caught the door as it was closing, pushing it back open and grabbing his arm.

"I don't want to go yet." I said.

"As much as I'd want you to, you can't stay all day." He replied.

And suddenly I was pulling him into a hug, and I wasn't quite sure what I was trying to accomplish. I was forcing myself to go back home, all the while trying to persuade Gilbert that I could stay for a bit longer and make up some excuse if Michelle or Francis asked why I was out so long. I ended up visiting a friend's house, or I was hungry and stopped at McDonald's(even though I would be going out on a limb to use McDonald's as my lie; why would I stay there for so long? I'm not Alfred).

I heard a low rumble coming from behind me, an obvious car engine running. I held onto Gilbert even tighter, feeling him stiffen as he saw who it was. I hesitantly turned around, wanting to see who could cast such a look of surprise and confusion on Gilbert's face. I felt something grow heavy in my chest, a feeling I'd begun to associate with guilt.

"Hello, Matthew." Roderich smiled politely. "Gilbert, as well."

I hadn't done anything wrong towards Roderich. I was just envious of his increasing proximity with Gilbert. Of course, I didn't worry about it now(knowing that, as Gilbert said, it would always be me), but I felt the need to apologize just for feeling so angry towards him just a while ago. He never wronged me; he'd been nothing but kind and friendly to me since the moment we met in that coffee shop.

"Hi." I almost whispered, not sure if he was angry or sad behind that smile of his.

"Come on in, Roderich!" Gilbert cheered, motioning for Roderich to follow him inside.

Gilbert walked out of my grasp, talking to Roderich as he sat on the couch besides him. The jealousy started rising in the back of my throat again, making my blood boil. I tried to reminisce on all the things Gilbert ever said to me, about him loving me and not wanting to see me sad or depressed. There was no reason why I would see Roderich as a threat. But I couldn't help feeling that same hopelessness and loneliness while I watched them converse happily.

Gilbert's eyes caught mine, and he glanced back at Roderich. "Hey, Roddy, did you know that Mattie and I are dating?"

Roderich just smiled and turned to face me. "Yeah. I mean, it was kind of obvious when you guys were hugging at the door."

There was something in Roderich's eyes, a reassuring look. He must have felt my envy-or at least, sensed it-while he talked to Gilbert. He understood exactly why I felt so jealous yet apologetic for feeling the former. He nodded his head, affirming that all was forgiven.

"_He's just my friend._" He mouthed while facing my direction, before promptly turning back to Gilbert and talking. Gilbert patted a patch of the couch besides him, pointing to it with his index finger and telling me to sit next to him. He snaked an arm around my waist, pulling me closer each time he said something to Roderich. I could hear his heart beat with mine, steady and calm._  
_

His fingers tightened around my own, and never had I felt closer to another human being.

* * *

***A/N: If any of you guys are testing this week(or this month, or next month), good luck! I took my test this Wednesday. As always, my lovely chainsaws, thanks for reading and please review!**


	25. Chapter 25

I flipped through random channels on my TV, passing by random dramas and comedies. There really was nothing to watch, so I grabbed one of my favorite movies and popped it into my Blu-Ray player. _L Change the WorLd. _I really loved the Death Note series, and its alternate endings and spin off. I owned the whole manga series and the anime on DVD, in addition to the alternate ending novel(L Change The WorLd) and the spin-off novel that centered around Beyond Birthday-a serial killer. I even had the two live action movies of the series.

I was about half an hour into the movie when I heard Francis talking on the phone. I only picked up a few words, and with such small fragments of his conversation, I assumed he was talking about me. After all, I heard him toss around my name a lot. I wasn't really worried as much as I was curious-well, until I heard Gilbert's name pop up. All of a sudden Francis was yelling, his voice growing rougher by the letter. I paused the movie and walked over to my bedroom door, pressing my ear to the wood.

The chat was garbled and distorted due to my distance from Francis himself, but I heard enough to inference what they were talking about.

"Matthew..." Francis grew quiet, but his voice returned to its normal volume and the end of the sentence. "a kid! Do you realize that, Gilbert?"

There was a brief pause, which indicated that Gilbert was now talking on the other end. Francis scoffed and began to speak again. "...is my son!" He faded out before shooting back into an audible voice. "No. No! I'm done talking with you." And a beep promptly ended the phone call. There was a moment of silence before he cleared his throat and I heard his footsteps come to a stop at the base of the stairs.

"Matthew! Get down here _now_!"

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat as I slowly pulled my door open.

* * *

Francis stayed silent for a good 5 minutes before he even considered speaking. I was seated on the couch, Francis pacing back and forth on the living room carpet. He glanced at me every once in a while, catching my eye and looking as if he were about to speak.

"Has Gilbert ever..." He trailed off. "Has he ever done something with you?" He vaguely asked.

"Well, I think this is a good time to say it. Fran-I mean, Dad, I'm gay." I blurted out.

"I figured." He smirked and sat down besides me. "I mean, has he ever-what is it you kids say nowadays?" His eyebrows shot upwards. "Yes! That's it! Has he ever asked you out?"

I paused, wondering how I would answer. In the end I realized he already knew everything, and I had nothing more to hide. "Yeah." I nodded.

"And what did you say?"

I looked away from Francis, staring holes into the floor. "Yes." I muttered.

Francis immediately stood up. "Matthew! Did you realize he's my age‽*" He yelled.

"He's only 6 years older than me!" I shouted back(as loud as I could). "And besides, I'm already 18! That's the age of consent here in America."

"This is crazy, Matthew." He muttered. "Absolutely crazy!"

"Why? What's so unbelievable about this‽*" I threw my hands up in the air.

"It's the age difference that bothers me! Society can't function with people dating people _years _older than them!" He screamed.

"I kiss him. He sings to me. I tell him I love you. He tells me he loves me, too." I stated calmly. "What about that bothers you? What about that makes society dysfunctional‽* Nothing!"

Francis stayed silent for a bit, taking in what I just said. Eventually he released his balled fists and sat back down besides me. "I see where you're coming from."

Before he could say anything else, I spoke. "You have to accept love in all its forms."

He nodded. "Yeah." A soft smile turned the corners of his lips slightly upwards. "I should know."

I never did ask him what he meant. The conversation just ended there, and almost like we could read each other's minds, we stepped into the family car and drove to Gilbert's house. Francis sat in the driver's seat, and I rode shotgun, feeling the wind escape through the small crack of the windows and run through my hair. We finally arrived at Gilbert's place, walking silently to the front door. Francis knocked on it, and Gilbert (reluctantly) answered. He looked a bit annoyed, assuming that Francis had come to lecture him.

"Sorry." Francis whispered, his eyes downcast.

"I'm sorry; what was that?" Gilbert cupped his hand around ear, his eyes widening all the while.

Francis chuckled, playfully elbowing Gilbert's arm. "I'm sorry. Here's Matthew. Do whatever it is you guys have been doing. Just make sure he's a virgin when he's back!" Francis waved at us, climbing back into the driver's seat and driving away. I felt blood quickly rush to my cheeks as I closed the front door. Gilbert laughed and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his chest.

"You finally told him?" He whispered, his breath ghosting over my ear.

"I know you were on the phone with him." I said. "He was kind of forcing me to tell him."

"He wasn't exactly accepting of it, huh?" Gilbert replied.

"Not at first." I paused. "I convinced him. Well, he convinced himself. He said: 'I should know.' When I told him to accept love in all its forms."

Gilbert's face remained solemn, before he cracked a small, reassuring smile. "Yeah. I know what he's saying."

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

Gilbert sighed. "Francis' family is a very...racist one, you could say. They didn't want him to marry Michelle, a well-tanned woman from Seychelles. They kind of just cut off all connection with him."

"And all he wanted was them to accept his love." I said thoughtfully.

Gilbert nodded. "I know, it's messed up. But there are people that are still like that, and you just have to remember, Mattie," he pecked my lips, "_don't listen to a word they say! The screams they all sound the same! And though the truth may vary, this ship will carry our bodies safe to shore!_"

"Did you just quote 'Little Talks' by Of Monsters and Men? You just replaced 'I' with 'they.'" I laughed. "Alfred did the same thing, but with an Ed Sheeran tweet."

"Yes." He chuckled, pulling me tighter against him. I could feel his chest heave up and down as he laughed, tickling my own chest and making me laugh as well.

* * *

***A/N: This (‽) little guy is called an interrobang! This is a punctuation mark from the 60's that was used in place of "?!" because "?!" is not proper grammar. As always, thanks for reading and please review, my lovely chainsaws! The next chapter will be the last.**


	26. FINALE

Life itself is an odd concept. Such a fleeting thing can never be held in your grasp for too long. It seems the days grow shorter as the brain grows older, and the mind appears to never age. Yet, at the same time, life is seen as something that lasts forever. Everyday life is lost and life is gained. It's as if the human race is one, long, never-ending relay race.

The baton was passed to me by the stars fathomed into sparkling constellations above. Such bright stars died for my sake. When I begin to think about it, life-although it holds such a mystical aura around it-is special. And ever since the incident in which I "died," I've been extremely grateful to be alive.

* * *

Matthew gazes up at Gilbert, his eyes almost unwilling to fall on anyone else. Gilbert glances down at him every once in a while, giving him a reassuring smirk with a glint in his red eyes. There's something spoken in the silence, just from the way they smile at each other. Gilbert is driving his car, the asphalt beneath his rubber tires beginning to burn from the heat of the afternoon. Cars pull into their lane, and some pull out of it, forming this odd intricate pattern if it were to ever be mapped.

_A different color for each car._ Matthew thinks. He breaks his stare at Gilbert and watches a car besides them take a left turn. They're all alone on the road now. They've been driving farther and farther from civilization and have yet to reach a desert. Such was Gilbert's theory:

"Listen, Mattie." Gilbert held his grip on the steering wheel as he spoke. "Here in Bluesville, you can drive for hours and you'll never find a desert-or even a desert-like place. This is a big city, but it ain't Las Vegas."

Matthew laughed. "I've lived in Bluesville all my life. I haven't been past the outskirts and the dirt poor families living around the boundary, but I know that there has to be some desert somewhere."

"I came here on a plane." Gilbert said with pride. "And I know for a fact that I didn't see a single desert when I was flying right above that cloud." He pointed towards a random puffy, white cloud drifting along in the sky.

"Whatever you say." Matthew muttered. The conversation ended there.

Matthew already knew that there are no deserts around Bluesville. He smiles to himself as he watches Gilbert's determined expression turn into a blank one. The German has a tinge of 'confused' showing and is beginning to doubt the foundation of this drive. He pulls over to the side of the road with ease-it's not like anyone else is there-and looks to Matthew.

"There are no deserts." He states.

"That's what you're trying to prove." Matthew says playfully.

"You _know_ there are no deserts." Gilbert answers, realizing everything. "This has all been a pointless waste of gas."

"Oh, there's a point." Matthew grins. "Is it a waste to say I like spending time with you?"

Gilbert blushes and opens his car door. He stretches, cracking his knuckles, neck, and back. Matthew makes a noise of disgust and Gilbert playfully elbows him for it. They stroll around the tragically empty field. The grass is green and luscious, bending back beneath their feet. Neither of them are quite sure what they're doing-a bit of walking, a shred of childishly spinning around, and just a dash of kissing here and there. Their soft pale lips find their way onto each other's eventually, and they're engaged in a full on make-out session by the time they reach the middle of the field.

Matthew is struggling to hold his breath-well, Gilbert is too; the kiss is so spontaneous they can't control their own breathing. They part, giving them time to catch a breath. Gilbert wraps his arm around Matthew, giggling at the Canadian's face flushed so red. They lie down on the grass, watching the sun sink below the horizon.

Gilbert points up towards the sky. "How many colors are there?"

"Um..." Matthew trails off and slowly counts the colors of the sunset in his mind. "About 6?"

Gilbert just nods and smiles. "It's so pretty."

"You're pretty." Matthew mindlessly mutters. He clamps his right hand over his mouth, shocked. He hears Gilbert laugh and pull him even closer.

"If only you could see what I see." Gilbert replies. He takes in a deep breath, but Matthew talks before he can.

"You're about to sing Bruno Mars, aren't you?" The younger asks, chuckling.

"Well, damn." Gilbert murmurs, laughing as well. They spend the next couple minutes giggling and watching the Sun finally set properly. In a comfortable silence they watch the Moon appear in the sky. Stars begin to pop out in random places.

"I just..." The German begins. "I just really-how do I put this? I just really like you." He stops. "No, wait, that didn't come out right. I-you know-love you. I mean, you already know that, but-"

"You're thoughts are stars that you can't fathom into constellations?" Matthew chimes in. Gilbert presses a kiss against his forehead and smiles.

"Yeah. I love that book." The older states. "I can't be romantic to save my life. I just stuttered an odd profession of love for you."

"Hey." Matthew says in a reassuring tone. "It was pretty." He pauses. "Odd."

They burst out in laughter and count the stars reflecting in the other's eyes.

* * *

Matthew calls home and tells Michelle he'll be staying over at Gilbert's house for the night. His parents give their permission, before Francis snatched the phone from Michelle and warned Matthew that if anything were to arise, to use a condom and that he's encouraged to use some lube. Matthew flushes red as he hears Michelle yell at Francis in the background. The phone clicks off.

"I love you." Matthew blurts out as soon as he sets the phone on its charger.

"I love you, too." Gilbert replies.

And suddenly all they see are stars; fingers lace themselves between other fingers and lips find their way onto another pair. Foreheads knock against each other and they fall onto the couch.

They hold each other close as they fall asleep.

* * *

***A/N: Okay, there's an alternate ending. It involves brief smut. If you'd rather keep this PG, thank you for reading! You've all been a big part of this journey! I love you so much! **

* * *

*ALTERNATE ENDING*

And suddenly all they see are stars; fingers lace themselves between other fingers and lips find their way onto another pair. Foreheads knock against each other and they fall onto the couch. Matthew's eyes widen as he feels Gilbert's teeth sink themselves into the crook of his neck. He feels blood rush to his cheeks, quick to heat them up.

"Gilbert!" He exclaims in a breathy tone. Without thinking, he ruts down against Gilbert. The friction between them causes a tent to rise in their pants. Without thinking, they pull off their pants.

They make love on the couch. They kiss each other good night and drift off to sleep.

They wake up the next morning, and all Matthew can feel is a deep soreness from inside him. The pain almost removes itself as he sees Gilbert besides him, with his arms wrapped around him. Sunlight drifts in from the window and makes Gilbert's hair glimmer. Matthew feels at ease, sitting half-naked with Gilbert half-naked, light engulfing both of them in warmth.

He feels Gilbert shift a bit, groggy red eyes meeting comforting violet ones. They smile at each other, taking in the other's morning-after appearance. Their hair is still frizzy and knotted, strands of Gilbert's hair sticking up in random direction after Matthew had been pulling on them all night.

"I don't want to drop you off at your house." Gilbert mutters, relishing in Matthew's proximity. "I don't want to leave you."

Matthew smiles and watches the ceiling fan spin around. It takes him a while to answer.

"You don't have to."


End file.
